One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

I am below everything.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

"Put a blanket."

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.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

in a post. I want to be remembered

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Better Lift

It Will Get Lighter

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

not their contents