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.

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

Picture

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Style

Today I felt like starting

I am below everything.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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