Future doesn't owe you anything
This is the very last convenience store on the planet,
set in a post-apocalyptic scenario it stands alone
as a place where present and future meet.
It’s a site in turmoil constantly being replaced,
fluctuating between not-yet and no-longer but still desiring immediacy.
Even before you enter this space, you’re already indebted to it.
In this store, the joys of consumption remain ambivalent.
Translation directly into material capitalism - pleasure eating itself.
There is cruelty we cannot handle and generosity we cannot begin to digest.
These are the conflicted feelings that support our shared fandom for the future,
future that doesn’t owe you anything.
Future doesn't owe you anything
This is the very last convenience store on the planet,
set in a post-apocalyptic scenario it stands alone
as a place where present and future meet.
It’s a site in turmoil constantly being replaced,
fluctuating between not-yet and no-longer but still desiring immediacy.
Even before you enter this space, you’re already indebted to it.
In this store, the joys of consumption remain ambivalent.
Translation directly into material capitalism - pleasure eating itself.
There is cruelty we cannot handle and generosity we cannot begin to digest.
These are the conflicted feelings that support our shared fandom for the future,
future that doesn’t owe you anything.