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.

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

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Rain, starting

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Picture

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

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

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue