Jean lived comfortably in his small blue shingled house by the Pacific Ocean. His small one bedroomed house was currently being paid off through a series of monthly payments to the bank. The house was one story. Upon entering there was a small coat hanger in the corner with one dark coat hanging on the very top hook. Taking two steps further, Jean or an unfrequented visitor would notice the ability to move in both directions. To the right was a small living room: barren, containing only an old sofa and a small thrifted coffee table. In the back was a kitchen, containing only the essential supplies to make three meals a day for one. To the left, however, was a door that led straight into Jean’s bedroom. Almost like a sanitarium, Jean’s room contained nothing else but a bed, a book, and a dresser. The book was teal and was titled The German Ideology. In the back corner of Jean’s bedroom was a door that led to his bathroom. Completely white in color, the bath only contained a sink, toilet, and a tub. His other hygiene products were neatly stored away in his hidden cupboard behind the mirror. Situated between two large houses and near the corner of Monroe and Fifth, Jean felt that his house lacked a certain luster that was present in the current state of society. Being near the corner of Monroe and Fifth, Jean sat on his porch and could easily view the ongoing traffic. People watching was a hobby of Jeans. He liked to dream of the lives of the people: who they were, how they acted and where they were from. Jean believed that every individual person had a set of characteristics that differentiated each one from the next. However, Jean noticed a common flaw in the development of new and old generations. Each day, following his small, yet substantial breakfast, Jean would to the corner of Monroe and Fifth, walk a block up to get to Sixth Street, and then one across to get to Main. At the corner of Sixth and Main, Jean would enter a small book shop and exactly at 8:15 am, Jean would begin his shift at a small local business: a bookstore. The bookstore was two stories. It contained hundreds of novels, books of poetry, informational, non-fiction, really any book. It was in a bricked building that stood alone and on the outside hung a sign which read The Philosophers. The bookstore was only a couple blocks away from a huge corporation, yet it drew attention due to the new generation’s craze to shop locally. This made Jean happy. Although he knew it was only a fad, he loved the attention turned away from the titan corporations to a small local business instead. Jean did not own the bookstore. Although it was offered to him to purchase as he was a long-time employee, Jean could not stand to take on any more debt. He paid his property bills, electricity bills, his water bills, for healthcare, for insurance, and also his house loans. However, it was not the taxes that bothered Jean, he would always manage to scrape buy. He felt sympathetic towards those whom the government could not care for. Following the end of his shift at 4:15 pm, Jean would walk back to Monroe and Fifth, past his house and Down to Ocean and Pacific where he would take an evening stroll until 5:45 pm. Jean always looked forward to his time on the beach. It was peaceful, quiet but not silent, and he would have limited contact with other people. However, every day it grew louder and louder. Jean would try to listen to the waves and the ocean, but instead, he would be interrupted by unprecedented talking and the sound of cameras clicking. Jean liked to live in the moment. When he saw something nice, he would stop, and create a mental note of the moment. Contrary to Jean, the current generations would stop, but take a photo or a video. Eventually, Jean stopped walking on the beach.