Eulogy For the American Newspaper
I miss the newspaper. Before the internet. I’m talking physical newspapers. The kind you unfold. I miss the morning routine of it all. Walk to the end of the driveway, barefoot, pre-sunrise. Messy hair. Morning breath. Unsheath the newsprint from its plastic. Soy-based ink on your fingers. That low-grade, wood-pulpy newsprint smell. Also, I miss …