with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Rain, starting

13, H, grate

It Will Get Lighter

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.

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.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch


Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

in a post. I want to be remembered

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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.

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

brb i will read and reply sincerely