what do you think my name is

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

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.

Style

13, H, grate

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

no longer writing in the third person