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.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes.
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
it is hopeful
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
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
I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
kind of mythopoesis