What is the reason for the soul to atrophy? When is the point that when the only thing you ever loved doing becomes routine and mundane? When art becomes business, then business ceases to be an art. When the only excitement that comes and tingles the soul are numbers. When business drives you, is there a role reversal between the vehicle and the driver?
The by-product of feeling i.e. numbers become the only source of feeling left. Is it that getting lost is an option one must be willing to exercise all the time? Can creativity be measured in terms of output? Is there a value to sell the soul for a life of luxurious slavery? Is feeding the family a good enough excuse to die before ones breath runs out?