After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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.

no longer writing in the third person

13, H, grate

kind of mythopoesis

"Put a blanket."

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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 see a website

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

hiding from the rain

Better Lift