god being the centre magnet
hiding from the rain
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.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
we can only engage in such a way
much more tactility
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
no longer writing in the third person
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
i see a website
currently
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting