It’s always the strangest sensation.
I look up from the 15-inch screen that has consumed my day, and remember that I exist in a physical realm.
I close the laptop, and take a moment to notice the sunlight pouring into my living room. I open the window, and take a moment to remember what air feels like upon my skin.
Have you ever noticed how artificial the world on our screen is? My emails are read in my own voice, and my screen is an ephemeral canvas, where strategies and thoughts that blossomed in my mind are translated into a series of pixels, saved, and filed away in space that doesn’t really exist. The vacuum of the internet. All imaginary.
The sunlight on my carpet isn’t imaginary. I watch as my cat stretches into the warmth, luxuriating in its presence. When I touch her, her fur is as hot as…
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