I admire people who are constantly engaged in online conversations. Equally, I admire those who have long ago bid farewell to the online world and are now nowhere to be seen. There’s novelty in both extremes.
I see the very online people as creators of new encounters, possibilities, and chances every day. They slightly alter the trajectory of their lives and others with each "message in a bottle" they habitually and nonchalantly throw into the online sea. I've seen lives, including my own, forever changed by a Twitter DM from a stranger. We’ve moved countries, started new businesses, rewired our brains. I'm drawn to these micro online interactions, whether the words are thoughtfully or carelessly chosen, discarded or meticulously placed on a screen. I'm drawn to them because eventually, we stumble upon something hard to unsee, something that irreversibly changes the ways we move through the world.
As for those who choose not to engage with the online world, there’s a tranquility and presence I see in them. They are captivated by the pull of present moments, being simply seen in person, in a letter, or on a call.
At the moment, I live in-between, frustrated that I cannot send out enough messages in a bottle to reach what’s out of reach, but grateful for the messages that have found me until now. Sometimes, I take days off to pause this longing to expand my surface area, to be everywhere, to be changed at the speed of typing.
Being seen. I’m not even sure to what extent we are truly seen online or in the physical world. Because even the word “seen” is no longer rooted in the present. It’s just a trickle, a moment of acknowledgement in the vast sea of ever-changing moments of having been seen.
Thank you for reading!
I’m experimenting with “quick”1 essays on topics that capture my immediate attention. These essays are not sent via email; they are simply published on my Substack and lightly promoted.
written in the span of minutes or a few hours
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