He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
really i want the internet