It Will Get Lighter

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.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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

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

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

Can I see

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

Picture

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

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

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

"Put a blanket."

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!