and the fake qualifier

really i want the internet

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

December 2025

It Will Get Lighter

we can only engage in such a way

in a post. I want to be remembered

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

much more tactility

or never left

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i love it here

kind of mythopoesis

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

you cannot feed someone truth

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."