Imagine growing up in absolute dirt poverty in east Tennessee, daughter of a tobacco farmer, going to school wearing rags your mother stitched into a coat, and when you die the British royal family has its military band play your up-the-workers country-pop anthem in tribute.
Somewhere a therapist is trying to get people to "live in the moment" while this girl is already three levels deep into a made up game that only exists in her head and involves real trains.
The world needs more pointless whimsy.