Rain, starting

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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-"

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

not so on: yvf(wthw)


currently

was it worth it

It Will Get Lighter

I Write Goodbye Letter

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

December 2025

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

...

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Thank you, Jack

no longer writing in the third person