It Will Get Lighter

i really havent

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

IWGD

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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. 

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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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.

"Put a blanket."

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

It Will Get Lighter

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03