There's a famous scene in Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times when he's working on an assembly line and gradually his movements become increasingly mechanized until he himself becomes part of the means of production and is swallowed by the gears of the machine and loses all agency. A regularized work routine can feel like that. Or like your thoughts are being folded in half and placed in a pneumatic tube pulled involuntarily through long narrow tunnels until they reach their destination. Then finally the constraints are loosened and you move through the world lighter. And hear that song that makes your inner tides swell nearly washing away the memory of the day.