With My Little iPod
In their millions they reside, on belts or in pockets tucked deep inside, with snow white arms extending upwards towards the sky, they deliver the sweet sonic nectar that lets them survive. Just a few years ago, the idea of casually carrying around that much data — over three hundred and forty billion ones and zeroes — was far fetched, though with a rapidly progressive environment, only those able to readily adapt will survive.
On the off chance that my iPod photo 40GB had arrived there already after just being posted Friday, I stopped off at Mum’s after work on Monday for a quick visit. Surprised at its speedy delivery, I excitedly unpacked the small, elegant device and was delighted for a short while, even though presently there was nothing for the machine to play.
It’s funny how you sometimes only notice certain things when something has forced your attention to it; makes me wonder just how much slips past. Yesterday listening to Magical Mystery Tour while sitting on a bench in Queen Street, I notice a large amount of the passers by connected at the ears to pocket bands and orchestras, playing just for them.
I notice the symbiotic nature in which we exist.