I am below everything.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

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.

no longer writing in the third person

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

hiding from the rain

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

yes

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

it is hopeful

Worse Lift

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

Style