Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
and the fake qualifier
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
send link
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
its good
what do you mean
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
thank you
sorry i am texting like a slav
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.whats your name?
I am below everything.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
December 2025