Here we go again.

Learn to fly, even if it is the last thing you do. Rest and stand guard—intermittently, constantly, ceaselessly, automatically.
Because the market wants it, the market demands it; capitalism grants no respite. It demands that you need it, yet in truth, you are the one sustaining it. And it will wring the last drop of sweat from you—merciless, like that Prada or Louis Vuitton bag you want but do not need. Days and nights of devotion. Tireless pilgrimages along a grueling path you never wanted to take. Yet you must fit in, redeem yourself, conform to the norm, and submit to the established order.
Life changes, time changes, you change—but your prison cell remains the same: unaltered, densely static, surreptitiously oppressive.
Dreams fade, desires pass, existence slips away; yet you are indoctrinated into the mechanical repetition of meagerly rewarded production, as if you yourself would cease to exist without it.
So fly.
Learn to fly, so you can view from a different angle the machine that invades and devours everything. It devours your time right before your eyes. It swallows your children, your achievements, every single minute of your life.
You have no choice but to learn to fly.

Artwork: “When mamma is tired” – acrylics on linen – 2025 – 40×50 – Luciana Mariano©