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 am below everything.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
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
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
brb i will read and reply sincerely
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
yes
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me