Capitalism kills. Excuse my poor grammar.

In the midst of the nauseating stench of perfume and the “free market”, a distant beat of a hip, modern techno remix of a classic Christmas song, my eyes watered. As I dodged people who were looking for meaning in mass consumption, I passed by a cutco knife kiosk and time slowed down as I passed by and carefully studied the knives on display and in a strobe light flash thought about impulsively grabbing one and slicing my throat.