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.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
Better Lift
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
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
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
i see a website
i am quite illiterate on producing technology