Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
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.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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.
Today I felt like starting
so an active mazelike process
plato
not their contents
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting