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A tall and slender tail precedes me in this little neighborhood bakery where I have my habits. As each day at lunchtime, the sandwiches carefully prepared to feed the crowd of computer users who populate the offices and homes around a large pile in heaps. An unpleasant image comes to me. Those that materializes before me people who are for these sandwiches. I suddenly see dozens of pieces of work, trying to chew, then pulling his hands on sandwiches, and then vents back to work. In a placid ruminant irritating everyone seems certain to finish his snack and no one disputes him. To each according to his needs. No predator is visible nervousness, no aggressive scavenger. This is the calm of cattle grazing on a vast prairie. Everyone is sure it is right to be there, his mouth full, sated gaze.
The image disappears when I hear my fellow baker challenge. And Sir, what will it be? I realize that "Sir" has sores' uniform: big frame glasses, plastic black stubble, suit thoroughly neglected. I have almost the same even if I felt I still lack a je ne sais quoi to really make the club. In a tone barely polite, now he calls a "chicken-salad, a tart-lemon and a bottle of San Pellegrino 50cl. At which point it goes without saying that he will get what he wants is what I heard in the tone a bit too high, both distant and perky it adopts to demand its due. We feel the type used to control, if not others, at least lunch. A breath of hatred that seems perfectly irrational over me. I will try later to understand it: now. The type then pulls from his pocket a ten euro note and fearless seized without haste that the craftsman behind him: money and victuals.
This man, probably unable to do anything with his hands, if not shoot a chicken-salad sandwich and tapping on his computer, spell satisfied, no aware "of the somersault, not merchandise, but the currency in which the caller has made during this small transaction. Is it really true, this anonymous Parisian, he will always get - against a few thousand euros that accumulates each month through occupation of a cold abstraction that has no link with the chicken, carrots and he will eat bread without thinking, something to eat, enough clothing, enough to stay, and what to take care of his hypothetical family?
is the source, perhaps, of our current malaise. Marx described in Capital "the flip of the goods" that is social work where the worker is dedicated to making a property which he is not sure he sells. I think the reverse is true today with the Euro disembodied which serves as our currency. The somersault is one who accepts these "euro" that performs. Both sides of the note he waved in the direction of the craftsman and early to rise later lying alone are expected to do doubt the possibility of gas to get what he requires so quietly. On the one hand, a kind of arch that looks vaguely like a portal of a Romanesque church, but a portal into the great void. The other a stone bridge too vaguely Roman who was placed there, there arbitrarily, between nothing and nothing. The pure gesture of openness. Impossible not to see an act in breach of the founders of the single currency. The old gates are more portals portals church but only in itself, which exist for themselves, that is to say nothing, put there in weightlessness. Portals open on the empty bridge connecting the zero undefined. "Monuments for a virtual virtual Europe," said Debray. What is that currency backed in anything that is Europe today? And what we ourselves are deeply disembodied beings, entirely turned to the screens, digitized, free from any form of reality other than our evacuation by the emergency exit of technology away from the old world too big and there.
But let's not forget too quickly that we exist by this "chicken-salad sandwich" swallowed every day without thinking. Imagine it does only what its manufacture requires practical know-how, cooperation between human beings, and presence in the world to get to our mouths? No, because more and more the "production process" dissolve into an abstraction that takes them away from those who believe and those who execute them. No, because the recognition of our dependence on the work of others ruin the positive image that capitalism has built ourselves, "consumers" demanding and informed, with our "purchasing power "And our" consciousness of citizens "to influence how the world works. A fiction that would be deeply comical if it were less harmful. This immense symbolic dispossession could we turn a day of placid cattle carnivores that we are now in fierce scavengers that we argue about the corpse of a world in which we have no control over.
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