Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
plato
kind of mythopoesis
in a post. I want to be remembered
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
really i want the internet
brb i will read and reply sincerely
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
"Put a blanket."
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
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
I am below everything.
division of reality is straying away from it
ahnaf abrar
i want to do that too
i really havent