i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Thank you, Jack

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

kind of mythopoesis

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.

i see a website

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.

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

really i want the internet

Style

Picture


no longer writing in the third person

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

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

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.

Thank you, Jack