In this claymation short, a man discovers that the minutes and hours tick down at his mundane job, he is growing older and can’t stop it from happenig. Is there any purpose in his life? Or is he a cog turning toward oblivion?
Are all of our jobs just pushing the same red button over and over again? If I miss one paycheck, my life would tumble into a decline that I could never recover from, my rock I push up the hill rolling over and over me, grinding me into wet bones, as I struggle even now to make payments on bills that grow larger than the roof of my home.
So I get it. Even if I’m not made of clay and pushing a red button.
