Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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13, H, grate

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.

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.

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

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

no longer writing in the third person

it is hopeful

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Style

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

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

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

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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.

2 (actually index). two is company

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