He was an artist who saw perfection but could never find peace.
He had the focus of a monk, but none of the empathy.
He offered us freedom but only within a closed garden to which he held the key.
To reconcile these contradictions, I think we have to look the other half of our relationship with Jobs, to ourselves.
As Jobs wanted it, the screen of my iPhone is dark, as in landscape of the unseen.
If I stare into it, I see an obscure reflection of myself, but this impression last just a fleeting moment, before I press the home key, and the screen lights up.
But perhaps I should spend a moment regarding that reflection, asking myself what in buying and using this product I’m doing,
what is the full nature of my transaction with the maker of this magical and intimate machine.