Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
have you read
division of reality is straying away from it
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
you cannot feed someone truth
no longer writing in the third person
send your tumblr
amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
much more tactility
Today I felt like starting
as in