Nós terceirizamos a nossa vida digital para plataformas que prometem alcance, facilidade de uso, criação de comunidade e, a cereja do bolo, monetização. Mas Burk esquece de falar que também passamos a ser um ativo dessas empresas. É aquela velha história, quando algo é de graça provavelmente o produto é você.

“...Ir pros espaços das big techs também acaba com um pouco do propósito da sua expressão na net. O design do meu site, as cores e fontes que eu escolho usar pra falar as coisas que eu falo são também, em certa medida, parte da mensagem que eu quero transmitir, então usar as plataformas tipo o medium e o substack acabam com isso…”

Can you import a CD from Japan and get a thank you note with a packet of matcha attached to it from Spotify? Didn't think so.

When you begin to decentralize your phone, you open yourself up for greater levels of self expression. I could try and put a digicam, iPod, notebook, phone, keys, wallet, and Nintendo DS into my pockets, but instead I opted to get a little backpack to hold my stuff in. It's green (my favorite color) and decorated with pins of my favorite bands and symbols from my favorite franchises

You should write because when you know that you’re going to write, it changes the way you live. I’m thinking about a book I read called Field Notes on Science & Nature, a collection of essays by scientists about their notes. It’s hard to imagine a more tedious concept — a book of essays about notes? — but in execution it was wonderful. What it teaches you, over and over again, is that the difference between you and a zoologist or you and a botanist is that the botanist, when she looks at a flower, has a question in mind. She’s trying to generate questions. For her the flower is the locus of many mental threads, some nascent, some spanning her career. Her field notebook is not some convenient way to store lifeless data to be presented in lifeless papers so that other scientists can replicate some dull experiment; it’s the site of a collision between a mind and a world.