They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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
and the fake qualifier
kind of mythopoesis
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
was it worth it
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
wait what is that
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.
...
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me