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.

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

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

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Worse Lift

It Will Get Lighter

but i respect your search

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

IWGD

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Thank you, Jack