I am not a slave to capital. I am a slave to the harsh nature of the world.

I get too hot in summer and too cold in winter. I die of hunger. I am harassed by critters of all sorts.

And when my bed breaks, to keep my fragile spine from straining at night, I _want_ some trees to be cut, some mattresses to be provisioned, some designers to be provisioned etc. And capital is what gets me that, from people I will never meet, who wouldn't blink once if I died tomorrow.