Once Upon An Apartment.
Sometimes, all we need is a place to live.
This picture in instagram was from @apartementomagazine — an account i follow — being a space-aficionado, as well as architecture, equally. I think all we need is space. To think, design, be ourselves, contemplate the bleak future in, chill, entertain our friends, be cerebral, read endlessly and have all-hour marathons with all the cookbook experiments. And hopefully, to examine the use of lives, time, and resource — that without explicit pressure from parents or anyone in your immediate authority, would put you to carefully contemplate not your demise but quite the contrary. But with enough ease to actually deem it pleasant.
In 2013, the upside of Barcelona TechCrunch-Disrupt going, during the MWC conference, wasn’t that the nicking of my 15" MacBook Pro, it was mostly the creation of a space that makes our lives remotely (both senses) manageable. The LOVE and HATE relationshops we have with technology is serenely something that we can all at one point relate to: losing passwords (at the wrongest timing — or moment, at point of pitch, or maybe when you needed information on another computer when yours ran out of zip), and crucial moments when we are betrayed with connectivity — and device-insensitivity to our albeit-very-human mishaps, and dare-i-say-it, needs.
These little things it does: being un-charged, un-automatically compounding the steps we make to finding files in places we thought was easier to write down and stash on a shelf — or a post-it. And connecting the dots, when the dotcoms keep them really tightly secure — insisting to malware the institutions that are meant to keep us safe in our daily things — that we do not invade other spaces, but our own. Why not instead of all the calculating -against- conspiring humans, actually examine, objectively what people who didn’t have narcissism in the works, would go through when getting about to their daily twitter/ emails/ 2GB macbook air accounts.
This would be cool. (To have actual solutions, for actual problems, in actually compromising lives.)
The girl, kind of looks like me at age 17. At the precipice of my first townhouse/apartment, while at school.
But, probably just with shorter hair.
