i love it here
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.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.
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.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
in a post. I want to be remembered
Can I see
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Better Lift
13 |
|
|
H |
|
|
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
|
kind of mythopoesis
Lift Analysis
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
that looks like my instagram account