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.

no longer writing in the third person



i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

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

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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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.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged


that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Lift Analysis


Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

It Will Get Lighter

its good

feel you

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

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it