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.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Better Lift

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

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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

1

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

no longer writing in the third person