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.

Style

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

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.

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

Better Lift

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

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

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

this will be about a slug

...

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.

so at the end

13, H, grate

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

have you read