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.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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

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.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

Worse Lift

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

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

Better Lift

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

but i respect your search

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

no longer writing in the third person

feel you

i love it here

i want to do that too

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

like first name