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.

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

1

Picture

It Will Get Lighter

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03


no longer writing in the third person

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

isaac

we need to be deconstructing our identities

its good

I am below everything.

plato

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

sorry i am texting like a slav

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

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl