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

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.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

13, H, grate

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

IWGD

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

"Put a blanket."

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

1

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

you cannot feed someone truth

Picture