Bill is a smart man, so I did what he said.

I picked up a magazine and I read every article in there, from beginning to end. I read the letters to the editors and I pored over every advertisement.

But I didn't stop there, I also looked at the layout, the use of fonts and the wording used in the headings.

I analyzed every photograph, taking into account the composure, the use of colour, and the size of the photos.

I surveyed the use of illustrations, the way that the images interplayed with the text, the way that certain quotes were brought out for emphasis.

I read the copyright notices and the page footers. I thought very hard about the editorial and i memorised the names of the people who had worked on the magazine.

Then I studied the paper itself. I noticed how glossy it was, how the tiny pixels of colour were indistinguishable if i held the page ten centimetres from my face, but how under a maginifying glass I could clearly detect the intricate pattern of coloured points.

I inhaled the sweet chemical aroma of the pages and I dreamt of the distant lands where the papers had been milled from the pulp of trees. I thought of the hard work of the men who cut down those trees and the noble work of those who planted new trees.

I ran my tongue over a page and noticed the tangy taste of the inks and how it differed between the pages that contained images and those that contained only words. I tore off a corner and began to chew silently on the paper when the newsagent barrel-tackled me and threw me out.

Thank you Bill.