We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

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

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.

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

Better Lift

Thank you, Jack

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

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

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

not so on: yvf(wthw)

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

IWGD

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

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.