inside, outside, inside

The Kindle Paperwhite provides a nicer reading experience than you might expect. The extent in which a screen has succeeded in acquiring itself real-paper qualities are surprising. Obviously, you need to neutralise options like "see what others highlighted", which are such an insult to what reading is that I will not even go on and say another word about it. Or maybe I will.

Reading Conversations with Friends within this UI seems appropriate, as this book excels in manifesting, from the first sentences onwards, a sort of a Macbook-humming tone. All words are defiant, distant, even 'cold' would seem exaggerated. This zeitgeist taste makes the reading easy and at the same time fatigant, impersonal, just a thing you happen to be doing.

And then, suddenly, it's exactly this defiance which creates an utter shock when a moment of intimacy abrupts. Someone runs the bath for someone else. Someone aches. It is a revelation.

The next book I will be reading is The Picture of Dorian Grey. I will do it, and I will not care about how many times it was worthlessly - or, more annoying from my current perspective, worthily - quoted in thousands of academic essays, psychological reports, semi-journalistic takes and trashy posts. OK, fine, I will care. But whatever. I remember reading through it, not really reading it, back as a teenager. And even though I know this metaphor has been drawn and painted written for so many times, I too will have to return to the point where a picture makes the real thing go away. I will not be succumbed by relativism, as I empirically know what scrolling down on Instagram can cause. And even when you decide that the only action you will take is going to be the delete option, you have to be exposed to to the interface, and even that is sinful as such.

I do believe sinful is the right word, it was always there for me to describe my instant rejection towards Instagram. Interestingly, it took more time to understand how Facebook holds the same sin, though I believe to a less horrifying extent. Well, it depends. But on many fronts, nothing beats IG. While you can vaguely argue that Facebook hasn't completely destroyed text and words - it would be a hard argument to make, but a plausible one - you definitely cannot give Instagram the same faint benefit of the doubt. The overbearing monstrosity of devastating Aesthetics - yes, with a capital A - might be what keeps us from acknowledging it.

No people and no human creations can live in this realm, only corporate entities are allowed. And not that far in the future, I hope we'll all be looking at those 'feeds' with sheer, clear disgust, not very different than the one which today is (sometimes unjustly) related with cigarette packs. Yes, as in, "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK WHAT WERE WE THINKING?" ⌖
I'm currently staying in a totally new part of the city - truth be told, for me this is a valid assessment for at least a half of Paris - and it's relaxed and busy and dirty and clean and new and old. It's a little street, and almost every day a new object finds its way to the sidewalk. A leaking refrigerator with some spilled food. Empty drawers. Newly bought cheap furniture boxes. It should have been melancholy and yet it's far from that. There are early noons with bright disco tunes and evenings with a muezzin compiling sounds. The light is soft, foggy and unharassing. Just when you thought that places are no longer impossible, along comes Paris and lets you in.