One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
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.
hiding from the rain
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
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
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
no longer writing in the third person
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
i really havent
and the fake qualifier
no like which do people call me
i was tempted to lie about my name
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
its good
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Thank you, Jack