Modern ways are here, and they are always here. At present. Sneaky, they are wrapping their claws around us while we are busy thinking about space, our personal space. Suddenly, we are caught off guard when we realize that the world changed. Like it wasn't changing all the time.
We get lost, alienated from the society. And then, we start talking about good old times, as an opposite to this increasingly soulless era, as we perceive it.
Because contemporary world is always looking down on everything that was, and to us it seems like an expiry date for our sense of usefulness. Modern ways are proud, even if there is nothing to be proud of, and they are self-justified. They are in the center of attention. And the old ways are cast away, misplaced, and left alone to reflect about their needlessness. People tend to identify themselves with time. As thrash cans, becoming recycle bins.
Progress, some call it. Just a fancy word for doom, others contest. What would happen if we recycled time?
Actually, that's history.