Why do things break?
I broke my hair clip today. I was playing with it. Just like I play with other things; lying carelessly amongst them in my bed. Have you ever seen a hair clip? It is a rather simple device – few holes, some locks, a coiled spring – all fitted together to hold women’s hair.
There are some people, a faction of human population, whose only job is to make these hair clips. Perhaps machines create hair clips but then there are people who operate these machines; nevertheless there are people who design the patterns on the clips, there are people who assemble the different pieces; there are people who do this day in and day out.
Who are these people? Are they children? What do they think? Where do they live? Do they read? Do they sing?