Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

currently

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

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.

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

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

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.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Better Lift

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

Picture

no longer writing in the third person

13, H, grate

that looks like my instagram account

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i was tempted to lie about my name