Georg Simmel over one hundred years ago wrote in his work The Metropolis of Modern Life that the individual for the last two hundred years has resisted being "swallowed up in the social-technological mechanism."  Rather than make universal claims, I'll stick to participant observations. 

For the last six months, I have fought this beast that has lured me in by its promise of happiness, and inevitably I have found myself in the belly of the beast gasping for inspiration. Sunlight is nowhere to be found, and weekdays consist of  unilluminating, gray and dark surroundings. Dreams escape me, and mechanical banality, like clockwork, is unavoidable.

I once found a breath of life in the green grass that prickled the bottom of my sole.  Now all I walk on is pavement- devoid of life completely, soulless. I wear leather shoes that conceal my feet entirely, and my Rainbows are hundreds of miles away.

Solace is found only when I seize to feel at all, of course the weekend, and only what is truly beautiful--and yes that is you.

Some look to their favorite poison to escape reality, to escape the monotony of their own existence. Instead, I sit and mix metaphors and analogies, play with words, and wonder if anyone noticed. I reach towards something else, but am enthralled by the very thorns that give me pleasure and pain. Perhaps reaching in itself is the primordial end that us city dwellers all strive for and the means by which we escape the beast. Yes, again the careful reader will understand the circular nature of this beast, and hence the dilemma.