Dispatch from an advertising future #170


They’d got used to textspeak. Even those strange little pictures she’d added to everything, they’d learned to read them. A different language but they’d picked it up. They’d had to if they were going to “follow” her. And as parents, that was their responsibility. It wasn’t spying, it was following. But this was new. So short. So compressed. So fast. Tiny pieces that she said unfolded for those who spoke the language. She and her friends made them and read them. Their secrets. The meaning so condensed. She and her friends called it “imagism”. They rewound it and tried again.