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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
sorry i am texting like a slav
its good
as in
that looks like my instagram account
yeah
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
not their contents
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.isaac
have you read
or never left
no i haven't really read anything
barren land
like magnets