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.

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

13, H, grate

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

i love it here

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

as in

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

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

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