its performative
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
...
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
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.
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
fw
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
like magnets