The Celly

My Samsung phone’s soul is probably writhing in boredom, but is probably used to it.

I hardly grab it, except when I can no longer fight my ear’s craving for music.  It’s playlist has it all: Eminem and Linkin Park for my mad days; Gabrielle Aplin and Sarah Bareilles for my girly gush; or The Glitch Mob for coloring my mundane hour with beats and horrible cussing.

I seldom need calls or text messages.  My current model isn’t geared with many apps (hint: the celly ain’t went pass the Galaxies).  But it’s sufficient and believes it.

My Samsung phone’s soul writhes in boredom, but it swiftly passes.


Soulful Machines 


So, what do you think?

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