Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

no longer writing in the third person

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.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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

yes

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

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

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

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

It's

dusk

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."