Steve Jobs
It’s weird. I’ve never had the privilege to work for Steve Jobs, let alone meet him or know him, yet it feels like someone close died.
I was reflecting earlier on the fact that he is one of childhood heroes. From way back when I was a penny-less teenager, I was dreaming about owning a Macintosh and program for it. Or make music with it. Or just play games. And soon later came the absurd NeXT cube, with its black magnesium body. Oh, how I loved that thing. And its beautifully architected operating system. And this weird language no-one else was using, Objective-C.
The world lost a complex visionary. The one who declared floppy disks obsolete in circa 1989. The man who gave a name to those weird devices called “MP3 players” that nobody – nobody, I swear! – was using before the iPod. The guy who made me love iOS even if I hated its closed architecture. And the wise who insisted on the simplicity of single-button mice. Not forgetting the businessman unafraid to admit his LSD experiences.
Most importantly, he made me understand that engineering can meet with art and idealism. He is not the only one who has done it, but he is the only one that lived during my lifetime.
So, thank you Steve Jobs.
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