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.

its good short few pages

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

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

you have a beautiful account btw

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

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

but i respect your search

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

much more tactility

brb i will read and reply sincerely

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

Rain, starting

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

really i want the internet

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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.

Better Lift

so at the end