Picture

2 (actually index). two is company

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

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.


something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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.

i see a website

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

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

Better Lift

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

13, H, grate

kind of mythopoesis

really i want the internet

no longer writing in the third person


a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

hiding from the rain

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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


Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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