This is like slipping down a random pipe and stumbling into the lesser known parts of Nintendo’s Super Mario World. It’s the counter-culture – the part they don’t show you on the game. There’s less glam and pop, but more soul. It’s like strolling down rainbow road or hitching a ride on an 8-bit cloud, but after all the cameras have left and that superstar, mega-rich, 1% bastard Mario and his posse of oligarchs have moved on to go wreck somebody else’s shit.

This is your home. It’s 8-bit magic land. There’s no problems, just an ever blooming nostalgia of constant repetition, and a bit of anxiety over the fact that there are no problems, an underlying fear that life is only artificial or somehow contrived. That everything is orchestrated, like some elaborate joke or set up. You can’t trust your feelings, and yet at the same time you can’t ignore them. So you press on, living life the only way you know how, content in the discontent and taunted by the unknown.