The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
it is hopeful
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Today I felt like starting
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
i understand
no longer writing in the third person
so an active mazelike process
wait what is that
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
yeah