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.

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.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

no longer writing in the third person

It Will Get Lighter

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

lol

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

1

i love it here

plato

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

not their contents

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Rain, starting

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."