I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

Worse Lift

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

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

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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

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

...

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

hello reader,

Rain, starting

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class