division of reality is straying away from it
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
"Put a blanket."
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
...
December 2025
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
like first name
The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.