that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

Thank you, Jack

hiding from the rain

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

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Today I felt like starting

Better Lift

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

"Put a blanket."

in a post. I want to be remembered