It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
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.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
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
Can I see
it is hopeful