wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

in a post. I want to be remembered

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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

it is hopeful

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

no longer writing in the third person

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

It's

dusk

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Better Lift