I Write Goodbye Letter

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

13, H, grate

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

It Will Get Lighter

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

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

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

no longer writing in the third person