We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. 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.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

Lift Analysis

Better Lift

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

no longer writing in the third person

Thank you, Jack

Can I see

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

2 (actually index). two is company

...

in a post. I want to be remembered

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.