When the peculiarities of community and place are swept away by the tides of capital, all that’s left is a globalised shopping culture, in which we engage with glazed passivity. Man was born free, and he is everywhere in chainstores.
Nice line, but it is more the conglomeration of chain stores in shopping malls that fixates me. When I picture the future, it is Westfields. Now we say that the things that join us must be removed, for they are the cause of conflict between groups. We move away from joining, whether the group be churches or trades unions or political parties or charities. We are perhaps left with a tenuous linkage as, what, barrackers for a football team? A team that loses its players next season to the highest bidder. A team we support from our lounge room, free from the discomfort of other spectators. And at the end of history, we are left in our rightful places, wandering the brightly lit corridors, warmed by the acceptance of our cards at payswipe, trying not to hear the lapping of the rising water in the lower floors.
Nobody is looking 