Smile, and the world thinks you're strange

There are days when you're tired and hungry and you enter a shopping mall or a food court or some establishment and its packed to the brim. You can't feel help but feel agitated at the teeming millions for taking up your rights to space and fresh air, and sometimes, sunshine. Oh the horrors, don't these people have to work?! Why can't I find a seat?! Damn it.

Then there are other days when you're on your feet, raring to go, your eyes are peeled, you're feeling smug. The same scenario unfolds before you, only this time you notice the things you hadn't seen yesterday. The magic of the invisible hands never ceases to amaze you. The classical caretaker of the freemarkets ensuring everything's in place. Suddenly the supply and demand of goods in just that one mall overloads your mind and you think about where the dustin came from, the paint on it, the power socket on the wall, the screws on it, the tiles on the floor, the airconditioners, its parts, the signboards, the ink on it, the paper, the posters, the clothes people wear, the potted plants, the exit signs, the lights, the fixtures, the wood panelling, the soap in the toilet, the flush, the hand dryer as you walk out, the air purifier in the doughnut store, the jam in your doughnut, the eggs in the flour.

Of course, you too are part of the magic of the invisible hands and nothing can release you from its grip. But you my friend, want to be part of the supply of things, so that you may demand ferraris and GCBs while the rest of the world that you're smiling at thinks you're strange, and that the mall is just too damn crowded.