i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
the site i am dreaming
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
i really havent
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I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
barren land
and the fake qualifier
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
or never left
so at the end
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.
yeah
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
i understand