I feel the pressures of this abstract force to which we attached value some time in the past with the idea of making our lives easier. Once upon a time, it was something, revered for its rarity, shininess and beauty. We pushed it. We faked it. We determined that representation of worth was more appropriate. Now we are left with abstract numbers and identities infused in synthetic polymers. Our activity is tracked as the math feels like anvils dragging the body to a premature death. I feel my face drop, my hopes knot (…naught), my optimism dissolve into the empty spaces of necessary resources. (for unnecessary lifestyles?) Logs don’t give the benefit of the doubt.