13, H, grate

kind of mythopoesis

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

feel you

or never left

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

is this you as well

Rain, starting

in a post. I want to be remembered

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

I Write Goodbye Letter

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

i was tempted to lie about my name

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

Thank you, Jack