abrar?

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.

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

no longer writing in the third person

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

Thank you, Jack

I am below everything.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.