you cannot feed someone truth
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.Today I felt like starting
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
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