Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

plato

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

hiding from the rain

no longer writing in the third person

1

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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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.

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

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