throwing mud at the wall again, i see.
you already know that doesn’t impress me—or anyone else who knows what you’re doing. including yourself.
so what gives?
wait, wait. don’t tell me.
is this to impress the birds?
you know how ridiculous that is, right?
it’s not just that their opinions don’t really mean anything.
it’s that they’re not even impressed.
they don’t care about the wall.
they’re just here for the worms you accidentally exposed.
you’re just a proxy for food you didn’t even make.
and once the food is gone, the birds will just go find it somewhere else.
when that happens, i’ll try to help you find something meaningful to do.
but i won’t act like the mud’s not there until you actually clean it off.
And while it’s there?
sorry. i won’t pretend it’s art.
i’m not one of the birds you made it for.