My whole blood is this lava. I’ve been playing an iPhone emulator of the original Sonic the Hedgehog, a game we used to rinse for hours on the Megadrive at my cousin’s house as kids. Playing it now, I find passing through the levels extremely, maddeningly difficult. It might be the iPhone controls (I’ve been mourning the loss of BUTTONS ever since my last Blackberry in 2013) or it might be a general disintegration of spatial awareness and emotional regulation. Pushing boulders around, dodging spike-tipped chandeliers and rolling gushes of lava really sets my blood boiling. The land behind me is on fire and there’s not much time to hang around. But one thing I notice, as my lil Sonic sprite navigates the game, is that I can hear my cousin’s tween voice in my ear and my own silent childhood learning and listening. This is really comforting. Sweet tips she had about ring sites, springs on high, a hidden extra life. I keep dying in the game but I remember something of childhood. I don’t really have landscapes to easily go back to. The years behind me are on fire, but Marble Zone remains.
mariaology 