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.

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.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

December 2025

part of an old note. It will get lighter.
Slug
this will be about a slug
confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

hello reader,

It Will Get Lighter

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

is this you as well

We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

send link

Thank you, Jack

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

or never left

have you read

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?