Jana Sediva

It’s 9:00 am on a Monday, I’m in a indistinguishable corporate high-rise, one of those glass-and-steel boxes that hum with air conditioning and sameness. I’m in my own modern-day cubicle, which really is nothing more than a padded IKEA divider pretending to be a wall. Even before I turn on my computer, I dread the relentless stream of pings, alerts, notifications, DMs, … a constant barrage.It’s 2025, and yet there is a sense that technology is sucking us ever deeper. There’s an odd irony to it all—this hyperconnected world that leaves us unable to disconnect. Sometimes it feels as though we’re living in a world that belongs to the past; a concrete-grey past, where every day blends into the next.