What facsimile of life have we here? ‘Tis a man for sure, and he does breathe. Again and again he repeats the cycle of consciousness and its opposite, unconsciousness. This man takes of sustenance and gives of excrement. He performs all of that which biology requires of an object to be given the title, “alive” with utmost perfection and diligence and yet – and yet… he does not live. He is alive and not living – not dead and undying. He is a ghost – unhaunting, and he is haunted, but by no ghost.
This… “life” (or facsimile of it) is a chore – an occupation if you will. It is merely a task we must perform to earn a peek at existence. It is merely the job we must “go to” everyday to earn our brief and unbridled attempt at consciousness! “Why must one work so hard and under such extreme conditions for so little pay?” That… is the question!