it is hopeful

Can I see

I am below everything.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

IWGD

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

division of reality is straying away from it

its performative