Lift Analysis
hiding from the rain
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
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.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
no like which do people call me
abrar?
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
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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.
i love it here
feel you
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
Today I felt like starting
we need to be deconstructing our identities
He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.
i was tempted to lie about my name
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."