Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

no longer writing in the third person

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.

Style

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Today I felt like starting


I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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Better Lift


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.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

It Will Get Lighter

1

IWGD

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46