How come who is tightest integrated in the uncaring machine is prettiest of all? Suit or dress, a combed hair; perfume and makeup, hygienic and orderly? It's a devilish beauty. The devil doesn't come dressed in pointy horns, but as all our wishes. The insistence on order and obsessive sanitation—it shows a hatred for life. Imbalance! is how you recognize evil. The obedient student, overpromising projects, the impeccable guru. I was the most productive I've ever been during emotional sickness.

It is uncaring because it interferes with individual flourishment, and it is a machine because it lacks a heart. Does it make you feel alive? Then it is living. But most work does not make us feel alive and is therefore not living. Living is feeling, not merely surviving. Let this be a reminder that yes you are a cog, and it is your obligation to set yourself free. That whilst enslaved, hope persists. Every day people escape the suffocating grip.

Beauty is balance. Real beauty is in the form of an adventurous pirate or a forceful warrior—more disorderly than the worker. Salty hair; muscles tanned, sandy feet. Living fully, yet not in anarchy. Beauty is found in between.

How to be free? Brisk walks, loud laughs. Fast runs, a lighter heart. Nature shouts can't you hear? Come n get me, seek me out! Mystery and miracle everywhere. Philosophy should invigorate, not drain and deaden like school. To invite deeper breaths, seeking and striving. Life is hard but living is easy: The hill—climb it over. What’s over there? But it is also here. Right now it is here.