god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

Lift Analysis

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.

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Picture

Thank you, Jack

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.