wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Put a blanket."
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
December 2025
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
i really havent
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
all that is to say
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
we can only engage in such a way
wait what is that
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
hello reader,
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59