One’s personal existence, one’s personal happiness does not need to be monetized.
One does not need to have their personal work, one’s love and hobby, to be scrutinized under that same metric of capitalistic worthiness.
One needs not abide by which large platforms benefit from one’s works of passion.
One does not need for their work to have an expiration date. One’s work may stand as a collective body to gradually explore, rather than as individual pieces to be plucked and consumed wantonly.
One does not need for their work to become a commodity to be traded and shared for the sake of numbers. To be consumed, and only to be consumed thoughtlessly.
One should not be forced to consume that which is determined by algorithms, by radars, by likes made by others, pushed into one’s periphery.
One wishes for their work to be a garden, a museum, something of that nature, for people to forget as is natural, but occasionally remembered, and when remembered, to be a place for visitors to return to and enjoy. Not in a sense which is forced or commodified, but in a manner which is deliberate.
Ours is a journey to be taken by one’s own time, without others to define one’s own feelings and interests.