I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

it is hopeful

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.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

but i respect your search

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

Better Lift

currently

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

Style

It Will Get Lighter

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now