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
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.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems
annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder
where it goes in the day.