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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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.

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

It Will Get Lighter

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Better Lift

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

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.

like magnets

god being the centre magnet

whats your name?

in a post. I want to be remembered

hiding from the rain

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

i have read not even 1 book

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Picture

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

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.