I am below everything.
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Today I felt like starting
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
kind of mythopoesis
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
barren land
or never left
its good
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
have you read
but i respect your search
idk
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
what do you mean
lol yea
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
its good