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Media / A small momento
« on: July 08, 2020, 02:16:59 pm »Quite the ways we've come with how the digital landscape has changed so drastically. How I long to be a kid again, sitting at home on the hot summer days with a brick-like Toshiba laptop perusing the internet. Discoveries like Impressive Title and FeralHeart don't happen that often for me anymore. Occasionally, I'll go digging around the archives of the past forums left scattered about the reaches of the technological expanse. They feel like an old home you've decided to revisit after years have gone by, the memories still sit firm in your chest.
It's almost painful. To see the remnants and ruin of something so grandeur come to a silent and cold close, possibly forgotten. I yearn to see those who I once knew, lost to the sea of an everchanging void. Usernames that once decorated the screens of hundreds no longer make an appearance, years old chat logs on skype left unread. Revisiting these things is bittersweet, as I click the login button and hope for a vast and lush presence of people and digital architecture. Yet all I see is the blank canvas face of a dream I've been chasing.
To be reminded of these places, a pocket of the internet brings me unfathomable pain. Old becomes obsolete by new, subsequently the old slips into the night. Perhaps the subject of what is old was misplaced, yet adaptive. I see the landscape change from what once was a simple game unearth many akin to it, the lovingness and cherished memories will always be with me. As I hope they do with your own, dear reader, please do not forget the ghosts of the internet.
It's almost painful. To see the remnants and ruin of something so grandeur come to a silent and cold close, possibly forgotten. I yearn to see those who I once knew, lost to the sea of an everchanging void. Usernames that once decorated the screens of hundreds no longer make an appearance, years old chat logs on skype left unread. Revisiting these things is bittersweet, as I click the login button and hope for a vast and lush presence of people and digital architecture. Yet all I see is the blank canvas face of a dream I've been chasing.
To be reminded of these places, a pocket of the internet brings me unfathomable pain. Old becomes obsolete by new, subsequently the old slips into the night. Perhaps the subject of what is old was misplaced, yet adaptive. I see the landscape change from what once was a simple game unearth many akin to it, the lovingness and cherished memories will always be with me. As I hope they do with your own, dear reader, please do not forget the ghosts of the internet.
