You watch more. There’s a video of her interviewing a basil plant and two of her reading out loudfrom the Bible. In one, her nose spontaneously starts bleeding. All of her videos are like this: unsettling, repetitive, sparse. Imagine anime mixed with a healthy heap of David Lynch, a dash of Ariana Grande, and one stick of bubblegum. There are a few characters who appear in the videos besides Poppy—one of her recurring guests is a talking mannequin.

Most of her videos are too unnerving to watch from beginning to end for reasons that are hard to put your finger on. You find yourself scrolling to the comments in the middle of the more unsettling scenes, the digital equivalent of turning to a friend in the movie theater and gauging their reaction to the batshit thing you just saw onscreen.

Welcome to Poppy’s World (Wired)

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