Keeping busy gives work which keeps the mind off of trivial matters of bureaucracy and existentialism. Every waking hour I work towards my lofty goals. In society I would be working towards some sort of retirement form working. But labor allows purpose. Sisyphus is better off than the most decadent of kings. I will not stop working, but for every day I work there is less to be done. When I someday make a field to grow my crops, I will not longer be forced to scavenge. I will have a sense of security for the day that I really break my leg, or receive some other work impairing injury.
Arbeiten Macht Frei
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