It’s a song of not knowing what to do with what you’ve just encountered. No matter how obviously meaningful the thing in front of you appears, there is no way you can learn its meaning. Not yet. It’s a tease, a feeling Zelda fans at least tolerate and likely love.
all your summertimes reprised in G major, everybody dying backwards in Technicolor just for you. aren’t you just so lucky? how the flowers never remember what did or didn’t happen above the staircase that day. though in the language of flowers, the only word that rhymes with sister is slaughter: their pollen flushed faces turning toward sunnier and sunnier slaughterhouses.
We think video games are literature, and so why shouldn't there be literature about video games? That's the question we're hoping to answer here. Read more.
