It’s the aesthetic. It’s supposed to be minimal and serious and authentic and (hair-shirt) ethical. But it is in fact Miserable Web.
Now that I’ve typed the words Miserable Web, I like the service much more than I did. And it doesn’t dismiss my previous conception of the place as “medical-grade internet,” either. Here is your grim prescription from Miserable Web. Meet the other patients. Enjoy your broken conversations in our infinite antiseptic white rooms, as if you were inmates in the cells of THX-1138. Consider the blank silence under our eyeless, lying smile. Even if you leave, the piece of you that loved colour and joy is still here, dying.
This is Miserable Web. Say Ello.
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