There's a book called Pattern Recognition by William Gibson which features a woman who suffers a genuine medical reaction to corporate logos. I can relate to that. When you're in a particular frame of mind, the absolute ubiquity of signage in the city can be frightening to the point of panic. When your identity is vulnerable to mass media noise, a city full of billboards can be nothing more than a lightspeed horrorshow, thrashing with hostile light and noise, threatening images everywhere. Images of cultural idylls, advertisements, fashion shots, shop signs, the interior design of David Jones as a vision of urban utopia, are all threatening because they inform the individual of their innate inadequacy; their inability to afford Gucci sunglasses or the lack of cheekbones to pull them off, their poor posture, their lack of money, the incorrectness of their skin colour, the incorrectness of their personality, the incorrectness of their identity. A walk through the city for the over-observant is a mental assault. In every direction are people walking around underneath a bright strata of gigantic signs telling you who you are supposed to be.