Hundreds, if not thousands, of people scurry around me like ants. Old and young, men and women, of every nationality, colour and background. The working week is over (for most) and now time to savour the life that we have. Yet where do we go? What holds our fascination and transfixes us like a hypnotist's watch? Shopping.
I merge into the crowd, becoming just another ant. Old books, brand new washing machines, potted plants, oriental artifacts, clothes accessories, pay to have your picture taken with 'father Christmas'. Signs everywhere, all with the same message 'Buy, buy, buy'. And the underlying, message is, of course, buy me and you will be happy. You think happiness is gained by love, companionship, being at peace with yourself and others? How quaint! Happiness is gained by spending your money, buying things you don't need or want. Buy that DVD and you are happy, buy that picture and you are joyful, buy that sofa and you are on the verge of transcending this plane of existence and finding nirvana.
If religion is the opium of the masses, then consumerism must be the crack cocaine. And we are all serious addicts who can't get off the stuff.
In short, we're fucked.
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