![]() ![]() Over the next two minutes, Maksuti runs through her memories. It's a jarring thing to encounter at random - a visceral immersion into an era of chronic dread spent wiping groceries with Clorox i haven’t been able to look at the footage until now ♬ How Far We've Come - Matchbox Twenty The scant, well-intended advice of the period - wash your hands don't touch your face please, stranger, stay safe - makes my chest hurt. ![]() "It's officially wartime," Maksuti says half-jokingly, in a way that reminds me of the early days - when people left the city with a weekender bag and didn't come back for months. "POV: It's been three years since the shutdown, and you didn't leave NYC bc you got the first round of Corona and almost died," the on-screen text reads. "We've got gloves," she says, wiggling her latex fingers in a kitchenette with the same festive claustrophobia and bleak light as every New York apartment I've lived in for the last decade. "It's March 2020," a blonde woman I've never seen before, Marjana Maksuti tells via TikTok. Sometimes, that may mean stumbling across a tailor-made emotional jumpscare while scrolling. Users can create guardrails to avoid triggering content, but the app's moderation is imperfect. TikTok's FYP is ruled by engagement rather than context or chronology or self-reported interests. ![]()
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