It is Monday. The guy wakes up early, and he is headed for work, where he spends the day. He turns home, exhausted, where he have a few hours left before bed. The next day, he repeats the routine, and then and then, waiting at the end of the month a salary. Weekends: if the money is plentiful — or lacks, — it is time to employ it to get some pleasure. One, two, twenty years passes, and the guy remains in the routine, already eager for the day when the state will pay him the monthly costs. I ask: freedom, if in homeopathic doses, would not be slavery? Or: not realizing being slave would not, in essence, be a brain pathology? Anyway, I recognize: it is better that everything stays as it is, either because of the calmness of the routine or the scarcity of antidepressants in the market.
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