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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.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
...
the site i am dreaming
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December 2025
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
and the fake qualifier
Lift Analysis
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.
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
...
in a post. I want to be remembered