Erosland ((free)) 〈DIRECT〉

First, you wander through . But here, the mirrors don’t show your face. They show your potential. In one reflection, you’re holding hands on a beach at sunset. In another, you’re crying into a pint of ice cream. In the third, you’re walking away without looking back. The funhouse isn't fun. It’s existential. You leave with more questions than you arrived with, mostly: Which version of me is the real one?

Then there’s . It’s a dark water ride. You sit alone in a swan boat that’s seen better days (one eye is missing). The tunnel is cold. The walls project old text messages, blurry photos, the scent of a perfume you can no longer remember. It’s a haunted house for the heart. You don’t scream. You just sit quietly, letting the water carry you toward an exit that looks exactly like the entrance. erosland

Erosland is the strangest theme park you’ll ever visit. First, you wander through

Do try the . It’s salty. It’s twisted. You’ll break off a piece for the person next to you, but they’ll probably be looking at their phone. You eat the whole thing yourself and pretend you meant to. In one reflection, you’re holding hands on a

I went to Erosland last Tuesday. I went alone. I rode the Whiplash Coaster with a stranger, and for three seconds on the drop, we held hands. At the gift shop, I bought a cheap keychain that reads "I survived." I lost it by Friday.

The point was that you showed up.