currently

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

really i want the internet

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.

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

Can I see

i see a website

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"