Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
currently
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
really i want the internet
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
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
I am below everything.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
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."
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
plato
feel you
abrar?