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a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
it is hopeful
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
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.
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
no longer writing in the third person
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
Thank you, Jack
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
but i respect your search
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.is everyoneback on tumblr now