it is hopeful

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.

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

no i haven't really read anything

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

no like which do people call me

thank you

i want to do that too

whats your name?

and the fake qualifier

isaac

was it worth it

sorry i am texting like a slav

bro i read nothing in my life

its good

yeah

magnetises a pin

...

its good short few pages

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

ahnaf abrar

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

I am below everything.

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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate