1. The walls close in, I cannot breathe; this city makes me feel overwhelmed — claustrophobic — somekind of modern Hell; it surrounds me, I think is this the future? A place which guards and enwraps us with all its conveniences and tiny living spaces — not a single thing is green and alive; we choke on simulated air.
2. Let me out and let me soar; if I fly down from the top of the city, perhaps, I’ll sprout wings? I only think this though, the birds are all gone, the animals too; here is a carefully calculated society — a dystopia.
3. The buildings rise up high and press against me, make me want to scream for a grassy open field, for a piece of nature that’s imperfect and unreplicated in a lab; nature herself isn’t supposed to be simulated — she is anything but perfect and I wish for the long ago memory of a flower’s velvet pink petal.
1. I’m surrounded by a gazillion books and where to start I don’t know because the truth is this bookstore is what the inside of my IBooks Library on my tablet looks like, it’s only that I don’t have to see all the books surrounding me and become claustrophobic, trapped by books stacked on and over other books; I don’t have to worry about being crushed by an unsteady pile of books with my tablet; I’ve found how books are such a freeing pastime; but in here, reading can also make you overwhelmed and panicked because even picking up one book you still have thousands to go in this bookstore.
2. It drives me insane how one book didn’t make a dent in these books packed densely in the book shop — and even after I read ten books, it wasn’t enough to make it look as if I’d accomplished reading much of anything at all; I should mention it’s not my goal to read everyone of these damn books, only the good ones but why you would mix up good books with books that were inconsequential and terrible I’m still trying to figure out because your bookstore is wasting my time; I could be reading books that make me relax or cause me to think about the greater picture of life.
3. I fell asleep an exciting book in my hand. I don’t remember how far I got in this book but you locked up the store and I lay on a comfy chair for reading and I couldn’t stop reading because the ideas of colourful and amazing prose, kept taking me away in journeys inside these books and as soon as one ended I was driven to read it’s sequel or another book by that writer; the smell of old books is truly unique, something future generations will miss; but right now I’m engulfed by that slightly musty scent of old books and it is delicious and peaceful as I read until sunrise.