Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

currently

that looks like my instagram account

Rain, starting

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

sorry i am texting like a slav

It Will Get Lighter

1

13, H, grate

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

barren land

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

yeah

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

Style

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.