autonomy of learning

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

Better Lift

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

you have a beautiful account btw

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

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

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.

brb i will read and reply sincerely


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.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

hiding from the rain

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

        13       |
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            H   |
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13, H, grate

no longer writing in the third person

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50