I’m a Fire Flower, twisted Fire Flower.
Sometimes, when I wind the window down in my car, I think about Mario Kart World. I’m sitting alone in the driver’s seat, radio playing some mid-2000s indie or alt-rock, a breeze blowing through my hair. It might be a quiet morning, the traffic light but the sun bright and warm. I could be admiring the scenery in a country I’m mostly used to, but still always curious to see what I spot. Or maybe I’m thinking about throwing a banana peel at the car ahead of me (I’m not, don’t do that).
I love Mario Kart World; it’s an oxymoron of a racer, the calmest and most chaotic experience you can have with friends or alone. It’s like going on a sightseeing road trip where, every so often, you’ll be thrust onto a motorway where cows and turtles and lightning bolts are being flung around everywhere.
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