the craving for physical/genetic permanence has never been as low-priority as it is now. buying land seems like a preposterous concept (who dares sell me what is rightfully mine to roam? ought a cow purchase the sidewalk she happens to stand on?), as does buying houses (why would one want a slab of concrete underfoot where one is helplessly reliant on metal pipes or 40-liter plastic canisters for water, and sealed bags of grain for food?). the thought of procreating is even more suspect - i crave no human jar in which to deposit my genetic offerings and aspirations. my line has maxed it.
instead there is a non-fatalistic but definite cocking up of ears. towers will continue to fall, and with increasing frequency - what matters is whether you have learnt to exit unto where the girders and glass are not stacked so foolishly high, and whether you have learnt to build something more useful than an empire.