Ten years ago, the return of certain analog formats—vinyl, film, and cassettes, was seen as a passing trend. Yet today, far from fading away, this fascination is only intensifying. Not out of blind nostalgia, but out of a vital need for the real.

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Analog isn’t more practical; it isn’t more efficient. It is simply more alive. A record pulled from its sleeve, a photo held between your fingers, or a cassette slipped into the player before pressing 'Play.' These trivial gestures recreate a forgotten bond: the one between the object and the emotion. Where digital stores files, analog preserves memories. It doesn't just back up data—it imprints moments into matter. You never 'stumble' upon a photo in a cloud by chance. But you can find an old picture at the bottom of a box, read a few words scribbled on the back, and feel an entire chapter of your life resurface—recalling a laugh, a face, an era. It is a raw emotion that only the tangible can awaken.

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Analog and digital are a bit like fire and electricity. You can turn on a lamp with the simple flick of a switch, but despite its undeniable practical superiority, it will never replace the pleasure of gathering around a fire—and the interaction required when you have to bring it back to life.

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Yes, technology moves us forward. But analog makes us feel.

Analog is not a step backward; it’s a step sideways. It is a reminder that our lives were not meant to be entirely dematerialized. And perhaps, deep down, if these formats are returning today, it isn't for their sound, their grain, or their aesthetic.

It is because they remind us of one essential thing:

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WE DON'T JUST WANT TO CONSUME EXPERIENCES

WE WANT TO LIVE THEM.