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.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

Rain, starting

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

I am below everything.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Worse Lift

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

Better Lift

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

kind of mythopoesis

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.

no longer writing in the third person

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.