a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

1

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Rain, starting

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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.

but really the thing should be autonomous

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Picture

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Style

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.

"Put a blanket."