Little boxes


I love people who are different. Who are not like everyone else, those who are all the same (‘little boxes’) so average, so forecastable, and so flat.
Whereas the different people usually has got some spark in them, whatever spark it is; they are alive (something is moving in them).
With one reservation; too many of the different ones are not being able not to be crashed by the pressure of the erased faced silent majority. And they turn against themselves. Instead of rejoicings for not being part of the rest of the bourgeois.

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