like first name
sorry i am texting like a slav
wait what is that
Thank you, Jack
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
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 Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
god being the centre magnet
Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.
Thank you, Jack, for telling me I'm just as bad as the characters (actually they're people, if that means anything to you) that I'm writing about.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
its good
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
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.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
which magnetises chains of pins
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?