Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

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.

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

bro i read nothing in my life

Slug

i really havent

We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

thank you

and the fake qualifier

barren land

December 2025

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.

yeah

i love it here

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

you have a beautiful account btw

the site i am dreaming

13, H, grate

this will be about a slug

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls