Childhood longhand was a winding road of crossed
teas and dotted eyes, pleasurable concentration. The teenage bold move-up to
typewriters was pressing, manias forcing rapid words. There was Olympia and
Underwood, but Olivetti was something else. Skyblue casing came from Renaissance
painting, the keys cute as a Fiat. October essays, fomented letters, confetti
poems generated from its perfect engine. Golfballs, memory, processing – inventions
since could not displace our admiration. Computers did it for typewriters. The
squat Apple box was too much temptation, even if today it’s a bad prop from Dr.
Who. Typewriters became collectibles, curiosities for our children’s
childhoods.
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