You keep pushing me away and asking me to come back when it conveniences you. You’ve gotten me so used to walking away that I’m not sure I’ll come back next time.
—  Jeigo

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Every person had a different vision of success. For some, it was popping champagne bottles, for others, it was fine silk suits and London high-rises. Felix, who could be described as some manner of successful, was enjoying none of those aforementioned luxuries. Instead, he was idling impatiently in a corner drug store, dodging cockroaches while he waited for his prescription to be filled. 

He had been waiting for nearly an hour, quietly contemplating the oh so charming atmosphere of the place; the light fixtures had been flickering since he’d arrived and one had recently burnt out in a shower of sparks, a small civilization of bugs was living by a pair of downtrodden looking vending machines, and while using the crusted-over staff bathroom, he had made the mistake of looking up only to find himself staring into a very large, very black hole in the ceiling. Something with too many legs had fallen from it on his way out, so he had bought a gallon of milk, partly because he was thirsty but mostly in case he had to defend himself. Truly, he thought, the convenience store would be the perfect setting for a horror movie. 

“Don’t mind the vermin,” A pharmacist appeared from a back room holding a small plastic bag and a clipboard. “The exterminator keeps cancelling, you know how it is.” He explained. Felix did not know how it was, but he wasn’t about to have a midnight argument with a drug store employee. Instead, he signed off on the transaction with the flick of a pen, grunted an acknowledgement, and made for the exit. 

Felix was badly in need of a drink. All he could think about was getting home to his refrigerator and rewarding himself for two successful jabs with something alcoholic enough to remove paint. The man moved at such a clip that he nearly skated across the sidewalk, propelled by a heady mix of anticipation and irritation. Perhaps if he’d been calmer, slower, less focused on alcohol and the contents of his prescription bag, he would have had the presence of mind not to round the corner on another person. 

Swallowing something very rude, Felix backpedaled reflexively to avoid a full on collision and managed out a sincere sounding apology. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Guerrilla Kindness: Add-Ons Make Cities more Convenient

Three designers sneak around Paris, quickly installing brightly-colored machine-fabricated objects onto public chairs, phones, vending machines and other urban surfaces to make them more convenient to city residents. They call it ‘Fabrique-Hacktion,’ taking extra steps beyond what city officials are willing to fund with tax dollars to create a more comfortable and welcoming place to live.

Little slides shoot coins out of the receptacles in vending machines to make them easier to retrieve. Coat hooks hang helpfully from rock walls near bus stops. Tension bands hold newspapers against the wall of the subway, offering them to each new rider in turn.

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I would do anything for you
if convenient.
I would move a mountain for you
if that mountain could be moved
with a button or a lever that
wasn’t cold to the touch

I would give you the moon if I could
You would love the moon. You would
show it off to everyone and not give a fuck
that you’ve now severely damaged our ecosystem
by disrupting the tides

Maybe a nice look in the mirror is in order, Missy.

—  Bo Burnham, “Convenience”


飴テクスチャも、もう少し増やさなきゃね~φ( ̄  ̄;