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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
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."Put a blanket."
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
no longer writing in the third person
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
what do you mean
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
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
thank you