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.

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

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

god being the centre magnet

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

idk


no longer writing in the third person

as in

so the method has to be autonomous

so at the end

"Put a blanket."

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate