what do you think my name is

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.

you have a beautiful account btw

kind of mythopoesis

Better Lift

brb i will read and reply sincerely

Better Lift

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

yes

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

but i respect your search

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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