hiding from the rain

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

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

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.

IWGD


Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

"Put a blanket."

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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