There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
I am below everything.
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
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but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
it is hopeful
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
no longer writing in the third person
Thank you, Jack
Better Lift
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
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.
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.
not so on: yvf(wthw)