Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

isaac

not their contents

and the fake qualifier

all that is to say

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

but really the thing should be autonomous

division of reality is straying away from it

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

ion

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.

like first name