Rain, starting

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

yeah

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.

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

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

1

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Style

in a post. I want to be remembered


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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03