Style

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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

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

no longer writing in the third person

brb i will read and reply sincerely

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

hiding from the rain

which magnetises chains of pins

its good

"Put a blanket."

ion

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos