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

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."

no longer writing in the third person

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

Better Lift

it is hopeful

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

no like which do people call me

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

yeah

and the fake qualifier

its good

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

and the fake qualifier

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

have you read

we need to be deconstructing our identities

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

like first name

It Will Get Lighter

like magnets