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.
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
kind of mythopoesis
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.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.
hiding from the rain
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
but i respect your search