plato

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after dusk, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

wait what is that

the site i am dreaming

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

I am below everything.