and the fake qualifier

sorry i am texting like a slav

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

feel you

your feed looks like my tumblr

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

bro i read nothing in my life

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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.

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

"Put a blanket."

2 (actually index). two is company

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

...

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

But seriously, thank you, Jack

not so on: yvf(wthw)