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

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

no longer writing in the third person


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

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.

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'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
"Put a blanket."

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

I am below everything.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

IWGD

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

Thank you, Jack

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

I Write Goodbye Letter

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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.