my mother told me "tama" meant "jewel," whatever that means. maybe how my lips squeeze together and barely touch as I pronounce the "w" or how the "l" sounds so much like an "r." my mother knew a lot about a foreign language, and she tried to teach me, keeping her face close to mine, as if she was smelling my cheek, and trying to look me in the eyes as she airily whispered to me when i looked at different things. who was my father? idk? my mother, perhaps. i'm tempted to say no one taught me to sneer, grunt, or spar, but if that were the case, i guess i wouldn't know how to right now. "tama" means the fortune to have had them; if not for them, i would not know. "tama" means my past, stored in the box of my mind or straw left to dry between a crooked pine's roots. "ttaammaa" i breathe, looking for the smell of forest fire in the air.

edit:
i'm resting my head next to my torso, where i smell that same snow-furred buck, like the ash from that forest fire. "father? mother? me?" except the curve of his back is different, and one moment he might be here, and the next gone. "where?" except no matter; i still smell the straw under the crooked pine's roots festering. i'm tempted to blink, to check whether i am asleep or awake, but if my eyes are already closed, maybe i will mistakenly open them. if what i see is the same, i could have been dreaming about reality or i was awake the whole time. "what do you make of it?" the snow-pelted buck asks. i hadn't noticed him approach. "make of what?" he's looking at the ground again. "this." he points to a strange track. finally i say, "it looks like a crow's." he smells it next.

~
these r 2 sep moments in time

Today I got reminded of how I used to play this game way back when, I somehow remembered my account info and wow this account is 11 years old. I put so much time and effort into my deer as a kid. Super exciting to see they are making a new version!! I think I may start to pick it up again so many lovely memories <3

i want to see a waft of falling snowflakes against the midnight sky, so i slowly look up. the air is static and dry, so still that if i were to lie down, the rise and fall of my chest would still tell me that i'm moving. i see small white dots drift randomly downwards. the sky is a deep blue-gray, and light grey stars peep through the frothy clouds. the dry air stings my eyes, so i blink them, slightly irritated and searching for a place to sleep. large rocks unresponsive and deposited lie next to a young birch tree to the right. i usually think that in those nooks and crannies i will find gems, like bells that ring so quietly that the air seems to fuzz, or thin strands of wampum. i can't make the wampum, and there's nothing i can do about that. so, these gems are miracles of the endless forest. i think my thoughts imitate a number slide puzzle, but...