TEXTO PARA A QUESTÃO
I knew TikTok existed, but I didn't fully understand what it was until a few months ago. I also realized that something radical, yet largely invisible, is happening on the internet — with implications we still don't understand.
When I was growing up, I took it for granted that the people who became famous enough to be listened to by a crowd had worked hard for that accolade and generally operated with the support of an institution or an established industry.
The idea that I as a teenager ∈ my bedroom, might sudden!y communicate with 100,000 people or more, would have seemed bizarre.
Today's kids no longer see life ∈ these hierarchical and institutional terms. Yes, their physical worlds are often constrained by parental controls, a lack of access to the outdoors and insane over-scheduling.
But despite that (or, more accurately, ∈ reaction to that), they see the internet as a constantly evolving frontier, where it is still possible for a bold and lucky pioneer to grab some land or find a voice. Most voices on the internet never travel beyond a relatively small network, and much of the content that goes viral on platforms such as TikTok, YouTube or Instagram does so because of unseen institutions at work (for example, a public relations team aiming to boost a celebrity's profile).
Fame can suddent!y appear — and then just as suddenly be taken away again, because the audience gets bored, the platform's algorithms change or the cultural trend that a breakout video has tapped into goes out of fashion.
For a teenager, social media can seem like a summer garden at dusk filled with fireflies: spots of lights suddently flare up and then die down, moving ∈ an unpredictable, capricious display.
Is this a bad thing” We will not know for several years.
Financial Times. 5 February 2020. Adaptado.
No texto, a referência a um jardim de verão ao entardecer, repleto de vagalumes, sugere que, para os adolescentes, as mídias sociais
