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.

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

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

currently

hiding from the rain

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

kind of mythopoesis

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

Picture

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

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

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

1

and the fake qualifier

no i haven't really read anything

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.