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.

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


Style

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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

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

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.

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Can I see

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.