https://www.ft.com/content/d123de9b-760b-44e7-9678-1359c59f89f1
The characters were so familiar. He’d grown up with them. His parents had grown up with them and now his own child was growing up with them too. He remembered seeing the “films” they used to call them. He could still remember the linear plots, the stories. He remembered the toys and the decorations on the wall of the school. And he remembered conversations when he was young and even now: a shared language for jokes and cultural references. The characters were still there… sort of. His daughter had her versions, her stories, her worlds and her friends had theirs.