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.

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

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 believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

13, H, grate

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.

Style

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Can I see

is this you as well

no i haven't really read anything

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

have you read

its performative

its good short few pages