Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Rain, starting

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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

kind of mythopoesis

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.