I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
fw
so at the end
send link
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
bro i read nothing in my life
have you read
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
lol
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13