[Last modified: November, 15 2024 05:09 PM]
Sitting alone in a café feels like the perfect place to think about how the body and society interact, especially when it comes to using devices. The first thing I noticed was how natural it felt to pull out my phone or laptop, as if holding a device gave me a purpose in the space. Just having it in my hands—head tilted down, shoulders slightly hunched—helped me feel less vulnerable, even though it also meant retreating into my own little world. It’s funny how something so small can completely shift how you fit into a room.
But this isn’t just about me. The same dynamic seemed to play out all around the café. Being alone without some kind of “distraction” feels out of place, like it breaks an unspoken rule. Everyone I saw had their devices close—whether to scroll, type, or just hold—and those gestures seemed to legitimize their presence, almost like a silent permission to be there alone. At the same time, the body was always part of the equation: the way people adjusted their phones, tapped their screens, or leaned into their laptops created this rhythm that blended into the buzz of the café.
Sometimes, though, the body broke through the screen’s pull. A loud laugh from across the room or the clatter of a cup being set down made some people look up. Others sank even further into their phones, using them as a buffer. In groups, this push and pull stood out even more. Friends might pass a phone around, laughing at a photo, or sit silently, each absorbed in their own feed. It was striking to see how devices could either bring people together or drive them further apart, depending on how they were used.
It made me wonder: are these little screens helping us navigate shared spaces, or just giving us new ways to hide?