In a world where technology is part of how we live.
Using our computers have become an extension of who we are. The way we layout things to the filing names and the things that covers it. I am a writer, I have millions of random thoughts and small writings scattered. I use my notebooks and post it notes intensely but I often bring them onto the screen by either scanning or actually typing it all down. There is also the opposite, when the words run too fast for me to write it down physically on paper, or when I didn’t have anything to write on except my phone (we often think this is all we need when we walk outside), I type onto the digital screen. The accumulated small words are endlessly roaming around my laptop as small bits of binary and I take them out. I print them out on paper and file them.
It has become, a part us, that feeling of knowing it well in some sort of a physical sense, rather than regarding it as just a device or a tool. As a lover of paper, writings, and art, I would never imagine anything being not physical. But then again, I know the moments of adrenaline rush I get when typing like crazy and the speed of thought and the words on the screen match, when you just stare at the desktop, of that colour and mood of the desktop picture, the names on files, and the titles of the doc files.
It’s like when you look at people’s bookshelves. The layout, what books are next to each other, which books are hidden behind another, there is an unspoken world of self.
That silence of self.