Our comparative prosperity is a continual source of bewilderment to W. How did we survive? How did we find employment? It's a sign of something, W. says, but he's not sure what. How were we able to make our way in the world, even if we did not get particularly far? Who left the door open just a chink, merely a chink, so that we could gain admittance?
Of course, it's completely shut now, W. says, there's no doubt about that. The door is closed, and there are no more to come after us. Our end will come soon, W. is sure. Maybe no one will notice us. Maybe we'll slip beneath their attention. That they're too busy to deal with us, says W., is all we can hope for.
Lars Iyer's Blog 