The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
currently
no longer writing in the third person
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
you have a beautiful account btw
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Today I felt like starting