Somedays aren't yours at all,
They come and go
As if they're someone else's days
They come and leave you behind someone else's face
And it's harsher than yours
And colder than yours
They come in all quiet
Sweep up and then they leave
And you don't hear a single floor board creak
They're so much stronger
Than the friends you try to keep
By your side
Downtown, Downtown
I'm not here, not anymore
I've gone away
Don't call me, don't write
Journalists beating their heads against a wall: The problem of consumption,
value and willingness to pay
-
Many news organizations and journalists still harbor beliefs that customers
will be willing to make micropayments for individual articles or that
paywalls...
5 years ago
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