Insubordinate Stylings

My heart belongs to the serif. Foolish, given I've typed this on a screen.

It's a matter of heritage and being too in love with the aesthetics to reconsider. I came to knowledge not through the backlit glow of a screen but through bound paper. This shaped my understanding of what 'style' is.

The accoutrements of print are my defaults: hyphens, justified text, dense paragraphs, long sentences, copious asides and meanderings, and thinking through problems with a cacophony of words.

A lovely man I consider a friend, upon seeing my site for the first time, asked if I was a reader. I replied with the affirmative, and asked why it was so obvious. His response? Your site reads like you love text.

And he's right, I do. It shows in other areas, too. My esoteric vocabulary, disinterest in film as an art form, and yes, mostly solitary existence.

The restrictive yet endless expanse of the digital screen demands legibility, scanability, clarity: all worthy pursuits in a world blessed with the internet.

Yet there's just something about the little flourishes on every letter I just adore. And I suppose this is why we create websites, isn't it? They're a reflection of us, in all our idiosyncrasies.