Can we really say “freedom is free” or to be more precise that we are free to be free when we very well know that freedom always comes at a price?
Or: has freedom, like most everything else in this day and age, been similarly commodified—the very principle and practice of which now processed and conveniently packaged as one might process and package, say, a bar of soap or a pack of fortune cigarettes?
Reduced to the level of a hypothetical product and seen in the light of commerce, are we not all, in a sense, shopping for freedom—whatever name that “freedom” might assume in shape, substance, color, and size?
Freedom from aging, freedom from pain, freedom from drudgery, freedom from toil, freedom from civic duty, freedom from personal responsibility, freedom from impotence, freedom from social obsolescence, freedom from boredom, freedom from fiefdom, freedom from oneself…
Here, finally, is freedom you can buy in varieties and verities of your own choosing and, by extension, freedom you can sell, too.
At what price, you ask? Well, depending on when and where you do your shopping, at prices also subject, I suppose, to the very same economic laws of supply and demand, which is to say (luxury or economy) some discounts may apply.
pen & ink: circa 2012
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