大阪で迷子になった

Could the greatest tragedy of our human experience in these coming decades be that young people know nothing of the rural life of the country, or life outside of these sprawling metropolises that humans are racing to create for themselves in every corner of the world. When did we come to believe that living in an anonymous apartment building with 200 other people made one a sophisticated cosmopolitan worthy of bestowing advice upon the modern day emperors of the world...and that living in the countryside with birds chirping and trees growing and fruits waiting to be picked  made one an uncivilized hick? Is the greatest trick of the 21st century a joke we're playing on ourselves: that we've led ourselves to believe that we have created a better nature out of concrete and steel? That we've created a better human by replacing the neighbor with the stranger, the life-long friend for the subway-ride morning acquaintance? That we've created powerful nations by trading black soot dug up from under the ground and exchanged it for cheap sneakers made in factories across the world by human slave laborers? Where is this progress we've been told all about? Or will the progress simply be that, when we realize that we have nothing left of our humanity after we have destroyed everything we've ever had, we've finally achieved a sort of warped "equality" in the oncoming incoherent void of meaninglessness and banality?