Young nomads!

Young nomads, refuse to embody the “youth full of energy” against the tenacious, the old-fashioned, the “choosy” ones, the rigid conservatives who reject new experiences and show little enthusiasm for the flexibility upheld by the couch potato club, those professors and politicians, and the deciders caught in the midst of switching from a director’s chair to that of a minister or president.

Do not presume you can select the job you want but join the daily struggle! Be thoroughly modern because you are aware of some truth which is inconceivable for the good democrats who believe in rights and meritocracy. Work does not exist. Today’s exchange currency is the ‘I will pay’. Debts are the present, and future is the profits of who showcases your life by clicking on “Like”.

Young nomads, be flexible! Rebellion is desperate introversion. Explosions of telegenic anger on the streets. Or collective anger towards the managers who fired three thousand people and then the protesters could get a five-year prison sentence because they ripped their bosses’shirts off. And not a single word written on the walls, that spoils their respectability! These decorative details considered a subversive act against the “common well-being” of model citizens. “White walls, silent people”, wrote an inspired poet on a wall.



Young nomadic ghosts, shun the disproportion of everyday violence. Reach the core of democracy-market stability where conflict can easily be captured by video cameras, or Defends the violated rights of the multitude . There is no room to acquire new rights. There is no time to remember we have the right to have rights. Time goes by, rotting away invisibly, covering itself up with the “self” coating, continuing to dig into personal will ‒ the only good left which still has a market.

Young nomads, we love you! We are ready to work and sell our availability to do so, even if it is for free, in a world of unemployed people and irregular incomes. This is a time for cynicism in which capital is not only the means to Export work. It is work that has given to capital all ist value. Because, apparently, there is no alternative. Whereas before we had wages, now what we earn is having a certain image of ourselves. We have failed and believe We are entrepreneurs of the Self. They say that all we are left with is working as guardians of decorum. It is for free after all. Protecting the walls of the city to remain morally well-ordered and keeping the city and the I-world as spick-and-span as our own home.

Young nomads live in the armed order of reality in which the explosive potentialities of the human masses are directed into three models: the jellyfish citizen, who is the selfish, rational, careful consumer that spits the liquid of its birtness; the jury citizen, the type who votes for Miss Universe, looks at life showcased by Facebook or big events on in the city, represents public opinion and declares success or punishment with a thumbs-up or -down as if he were in an arena; the temperature-regulating citizen, a transparent creature of the service sector, the inhabitant of a society without conflicts nor social confrontation, he who tests the temperature in an online discussion, produces input and vomits output.

Young nomads who live through the ups and downs of the social thermometer: have faith in the future! Every action, thought and feeling is a reaction ‒ not a creation ‒ to the information that is produced in the Campus of life. Where everything is assessed, put into a rank, celebrated for its exceptional features, cosseted for its innovation ‒ the oxymoron of the conformism of species.

Nomads emerge on the city’s horizon with the morals of a slave and the idleness of an aristocrat. Young people who flirt with the cohort of healers-performers: columnists, socio-political experts, psychoanalysts of the order of Father and Mother, ready to border with the impotence of the Self. The present is like a diet because wishes continue to get fatter and are extinguished in their irreversible sentences.
Young nomads, we love you! Have your go on the roulette. Maybe the magic number will come out, the one that will make the world’s giant lung vibrate. The pulp of humanity will make all the flesh tremble. The Big Unexpected Event will give everyone their own outstanding feature.