much more tactility


a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?


there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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.

I am below everything.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

lol yea

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.

not their contents

as in


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

13, H, grate


division of reality is straying away from it

that looks like my instagram account

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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.