Foreign bodies
I return home at night and find a shopping cart in the middle of the street.
Its solitude makes me think about things out of place.
About strange bodies.
About the rules that regulate the geometry of everyday life.
A few meters away, a row of garbage containers covers the sidewalks.
They are no longer strange bodies, although they once were.
Like those buildings that have taken over the landscape behind me.
It all began in a vacant lot, now devoid of its former form, and a few cement mixers churning the first seeds.
The first one to stand up, like a giant in a kingdom that doesn't yet belong to him, was still a strange body.
Like the electric scooters that are now our daily asphalt.
I see that Zappos appeals to the strange as part of its culture.
Create Fun and A Little Weirdness is the third value of ten, ten commandments carved into the digital hustle and bustle.
Maybe at Zappos they put shopping carts in the middle of the aisles.
They're clear that with a foreign body, you open a door to the unknown.
"A little" is like saying a quarter of a foreign body, a wisp, a pinch, a spark, a speck, a scrap.
Like when something gets into your eye and you discover that your healthy eye wasn't showing you everything and that what you called reality was just the filter of a lens.
I read on a medical portal: Normally, the body "defends" itself perfectly against this type of aggression by blinking, the instinctive "squinting" of the eyes, and the furrowing of the brow, which is caused by a sandstorm, a gust of wind, or another such accident.
However, in certain cases, foreign bodies manage to cross these natural barriers and lodge themselves in the eye.
Zappos wants that light gust of wind that refreshes and invigorates.
Zappos is also a foreign body among companies.
I arrive at the train station and go to the bike parking lot, which I find full of motorcycles.
My first reaction is to think they're foreign bodies, but I quickly realize it's me.
I have to find another parking space.
For the bike and for me.