...

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

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

"Put a blanket."

It Will Get Lighter

Better Lift

Thank you, Jack

Today I felt like starting

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter