Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

something religious, a kind of complex, it will get lighter, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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.

"Put a blanket."

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

no longer writing in the third person

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Picture

Better Lift

it is hopeful

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

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.

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


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