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. 

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

13, H, grate

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

It Will Get Lighter

Picture

currently

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

I am below everything.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Style

but i respect your search