like to think of myself as an ethical person, but there is almost nothing I wouldn’t, in some sense, sell. For instance: There are close family relationships that I have cut off, without even really deciding to, for years at a time. I sold them for stability and mental peace—transactions I think of with doubt and unhappiness every single day. This would seem to suggest that I love my stability and mental peace above all else. And yet I sell those too, at cut-rate prices, again and again: I sell them for the tiny blinking world inside my phone, the anxious grind of tweets and news alerts and
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