kind of mythopoesis
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
...
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
i really havent
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49