The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
I am below everything.
no longer writing in the third person
Better Lift
hiding from the rain
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41