Those Peeled Boxes Some of Us Call a Home

When I read that we are all sculpted upon his image the first imprint appeared in front of my cognition is that one of the parts sliding down the conveyor belt just like at Fiat's little pieces dropping in paper boxes warily inspected obsessively revised senselessly omitted from with white gloves wrapped hands among those nude paper covers suddenly your path doesn't seem so mysterious anymore it's circular and there we are circularly crossing over your first creatures hands with their perfectly white gloves they were the first one they should have been left the first one but you just had that need to prolong the game and implement some new rules expecting that products will behave according to the implemented protocols and your workers will hold their hands white then an apple occurred some overdriven laborer dropped it from his lunch box onto that moving rubber platform and everything went wrong one hands turned black other white hands in desire to maintain themselves clear withdrawn from that rubber leaving parts unsupervised and boxes exposed to putrefaction due to a single touch some good parts are falling before they even reached the boxes other good ones became damaged by the fall or are dropped in incorrect packaging some malfactured one's reach the boxes and are sent side by side with good ones everyone knows what happens when mildewed wall leans on the dry one knowing that our price is devaluing according to the decay stage you keep amusing yourself deliberately pushing from time to time that wrong button just to remind us how we are easily corrupted goods