Timbuktu, Paul Auster
pg37 "We all grew up with that junk, but now it's gone, isn't it, and who the hell cares anyway? Wallpaper, that's what it was. Background music. Zeitgeist dust on the furniture of the mind."
pg 79 "Before you go feeling too sorry for yourself, just remember that you're not the first dog who's ever been lost."
pg 103 "It might not have been perfect this place, but it had a lot to recommend it, and once you got used to the mechanics of the system, it no longer seemed so important that you were tethered to a wire all day. By the time you had been there for two and a half months, you even stopped caring that your name was sparky."
Surprisingly this book shed some light on one of our most frequent rants, who becomes one of "those" architects. Comfort, stuck, greed or perhaps the worst apathy?
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