Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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.

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

kind of mythopoesis

but really the thing should be autonomous

13, H, grate

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

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

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