“The screen mimics the sky, not the earth. It bombards the eye with light instead of waiting to repay the gift of vision. It is not simultaneously restful and lively, like a field full of flowers, or the face of a thinking human being, or a well-made typographic page. And we read the screen the way we read the sky: in quick sweeps, guessing at the weather from the changing shapes of clouds, of like astronomers, in magnified small bits, examining details.”
Robert Bringhurst, writing in The Elements of Typographic Style, which you’ve all read, right? (via Frank Chimero) (via matthewb)
It’s a screen dude. Pretending its something else isn’t poetry, it doesn’t help. Like treating puppies like little people is wrong, this is wrong.
Sure it appeals, sure it feels right, and you think it helps you understand a complex situation that otherwise has you lost. But it is a misdirection, a generalisation that locks in a limitation, a world view that lacks for reality and letterboxes the mind. You’ll miss a truth falling from your sky, and it will crush your precious conceit.
