“I think it’s 10 years old”, she said.

And there it was, a second (if not a first) generation iPod.

It didn’t take me long to notice — I mean, I don’t remember the last time I used, held or even saw one. Sure, it was old, fairly rough on the edges but as soon as I caught a glimpse, it felt just as mesmerizing as something new.

I was curious, she could tell. “I think it’s 10 years old”, she said. I smiled, thinking to myself how in the world does she still have that.

The flight was about to take off, “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, it works just fine — and I’ll use it until it stops!”, she added. I smiled, again.

It was a flight from New York to London. We didn’t speak much, but I did learn that she had ample opportunities to upgrade or buy a new device but she always chose not to because she simply never felt the need to.

An old-school device had been her companion for more than a decade — tirelessly giving music to her ears, consistently creating memories if not reminding her of many.

It was a relationship of sorts — and a beautiful one at that.

With how she spoke about life, one could easily draw similarities in how loving and long-lasting her relationships were in general.

The flight was about to land — and there I was, slightly lost in conversation as I couldn’t remember the last time I replaced an electronic device not for any reason other than the fact that it had completely stopped working.

Her relationship with an iPod had meaning — the kind of meaning that seemed to naturally reflect in almost all aspects of her life. Something that instantly made me think about my choices, wants and needs.

Scared at first, I couldn’t stop myself from going deeper — in this fast-paced, ever-changing world of rapid progress and technological evolution, to what extent has our desire for always something new started to perforate into our cultural and social existence?

Well, it was scary and I had to stop — as it was also time to get off the plane.

And just as we were about to say our goodbyes, she made sure I caught one last glimpse of the iPod — for I had become yet another consumer, in the beautiful eyes of an unintentional de-marketer.