Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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.

Worse Lift

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



It Will Get Lighter

It Will Get Lighter

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Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue


Style

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me


somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

but i respect your search

was it worth it