I usually don’t watch WhatsApp video forwards. In fact, I find them exhilarating painful. I’m least interested in some geriatric Irish folk, figure skating to Bollywood music, or birds flying in astounding formations over arctic glaciers, or even some spooky CCTV footage of a drunk guy looking into people’s homes in Dadar Parsi Colony in the middle of the night. I detest people telling me how good the morning is and can’t fathom the infiniteness of human stupidity when I’m egged on to smell the morning roses on a digital screen. My iPhone storage is always full thanks to a bunch of retired social media addicts who have suddenly decided to find wonder, bewilderment, curiosity, surprise, and amazement in the universe by way of their smartphones. I don’t need their help for that; I have two little girls at home and every moment is filled with these emotions.
