plato
really i want the internet
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox."Put a blanket."
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
kind of mythopoesis
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
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
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.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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
in a post. I want to be remembered