Swiping through such small chunks of text seemed less
intimidating, and more suited to the ten-minute-long bursts of reading I’d fit
into interstitial moments. Because I was carrying the book around all the time,
I pulled it out all the time: on the subway, walking down the block to get
groceries. Once you’re genuinely hankering to get back to a book, to delve
into the folds of its plot and the clockwork machinations of its characters,
you stop needing so much mindfulness to screen out digital diversions. The book
becomes the diversion itself, the thing your brain is needling you to engage with.
Clive Thompson
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