As I did, I looked down at the small section of my life situated at that airport dining table: my new Nike Air Max sneakers, my cashmere swacket (that’s 50% jacket, 50% sweater, 100% cozy), my almost-too-soft-to-be-taken-outside leather duffel bag, and my iPhone. All of these objects were central to me – I felt like they defined me – and it was my iPhone that was at the core of it.
Fuckin' Hodinkee. kleinbl00
I badly want to believe this is some next-level performance art of the unreliable narrator. But, I can also picture the Apple dude getting more and more uncomfortable as this bizarre swacketed man fawns over a series of generic attributions and non-answers.