Here: Not here
The mad scramble for my attention. The land-grab swindle and stealing of what should be mine, but which I leak away with nagging regret. The ad placements, the engineering of click-baits, the precise experimentally derived co-ordinates of how to divert me from my otherwise trajectory. And I swipe through without realising the cost, I sign-up not noticing the future penalty, I opt-in unconscious to the trap I am setting. And I hold a fading quiet hope for those rarest of opportune moments, the clarity of undivided, unadulterated, clear attention. My attention. I long to revel in my own attention.