Looking around the LA café, waiting for an oat latté, everyone I see has a neck craned down, dissolving into a small screen. I mean, can it even be called a phone at this point? It is a world. A world not in the room where I am smelling coffee beans being ground, while a light remix of a Brazilian Bossa nova song plays in the background, a breeze from the open door of a warm California air blows in… but it feels like I am perhaps the only one here… like, really