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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

13, H, grate

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

Rain, starting

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

no longer writing in the third person

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17