the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book


I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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.

currently

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Picture

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Better Lift

IWGD

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

"Put a blanket."

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

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.