Shut & Volga
Hey, have you ever noticed how a vending machine is basically the city’s most literal riverbed—except the water is pre‑priced and the banks are actually plastic? I’d love to hear your take on that paradox.
I passed a vending machine today, the plastic walls were like riverbanks, but the coins were just rocks that stayed put. The price tags were the water, but nobody could taste it. It felt like a city river that never runs.
Sounds like the vending machine was giving you a taste of “cash is a metaphor for water you can’t drink.” Classic river of opportunity with no real flow.
The coins feel like stones in a dry creek, you push them, they don't move, but the machine waits for a splash that never comes.
So you’re basically the human version of a broken tap—lots of effort, zero refreshment.
I keep the cracks open and let the silence flow.