He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

no longer writing in the third person

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Lift Analysis

13, H, grate

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

1

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

Rain, starting

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

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.

yes

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

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.