She walked on, comforted by the surf, by the one perpetual moment of beach-time, the now-and-always of it.

Sometimes, I feel like a time traveller, cause the only way that we can really travel in time is just to get older.

For me, the melancholy of the late XXth Century is walking late at night by the Mont Blanc pen store and seeing these things always strike me as simulacra of luxury items. They seem like fakes.

Every shop in every High Street in Europe is filled with basically the same stuff. There's a street in every city of the world that has a Gap and Benneton's, and the upscale versions of those.

She walked on, comforted by the surf, by the one perpetual moment of beach-time, the now-and-always of it.

Genuinely ubiquitous computing spreads like warm Vaseline.

Generation X is dead. It has come to mean anyone aged 13 to 55 years old.