i am quite illiterate on producing technology
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
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.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
really i want the internet
or never left
division of reality is straying away from it
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
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
propensity within someone
plato
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
isaac