Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

all that is to say

kind of mythopoesis

Picture

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Thank you, Jack

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

currently

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

ion

It Will Get Lighter

it is hopeful

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

It Will Get Lighter

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.

its good

i understand

whats your name?

bro i read nothing in my life

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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.