a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

It Will Get Lighter

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.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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. 

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Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

its good

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

no i haven't really read anything

we can only engage in such a way

and the fake qualifier

is this you as well

we need to be deconstructing our identities

isaac

whats your name?

so an active mazelike process

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

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.

not their contents

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

ahnaf abrar

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

plato

as in