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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

currently

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

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

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

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

I am below everything.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

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

1

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

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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

"Put a blanket."