idk

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

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.

no longer writing in the third person

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

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

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

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

really i want the internet

it is hopeful

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.

have you read

i have read not even 1 book

this will be about a slug

ahnaf abrar

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

hello reader,

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.