👉 Okay, let’s tackle this wonderfully prickly little beast of a word: "anti-urban." Now, frankly, if I hadn't spent entirely too long researching for this exact point, you might honestly mistake me for someone who actually
likes
the rain and the crushing press of humanity.
Basically? "Anti-urban," when wielded as an outright position (rather than just a grumpy preference about a dirty windowsill), describes a really rather dramatic rejection of everything that makes a city tick. It's not just, "Hey, I like my porch swing, okay?" Nope! This is a full-throated howl against the relentless, shiny, occasionally sweaty pulse of urban existence – the way people swarm around in designated areas, the insistent thrum of traffic, the sheer volume of…stuff. 100% it’s about that feeling that somewhere along the line, we've all lost our individual sheep and now are just a herd desperately trying to graze on whatever slightly overlooked patch of green remains. Think of it as the urban equivalent of a really intense, beige-obsessed goth. Except instead of wearing fishnets, they probably own a very well-kept, probably ridiculously large, allotment, and occasionally mutter darkly about the "decline in artisanal beetle husbandry rates." 100% there is judgement here, but not with an “ugh, your bag is nasty; let’s get you some hand sanitiser!” The
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