the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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.

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

13, H, grate

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

Can I see

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Thank you, Jack

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Better Lift

was it worth it

in a post. I want to be remembered

i want to do that too

feel you

barren land

or never left

plato

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

Worse Lift

what do you think my name is

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

no like which do people call me