it is hopeful
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
and the fake qualifier
abrar?
plato
no i haven't really read anything
"Put a blanket."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
feel you
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
its good
i was tempted to lie about my name
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
is everyoneback on tumblr now
as in
not their contents
its good
but i respect your search
its performative
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.
really i want the internet