I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
I am below everything.
Today I felt like starting
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
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."
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
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.
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we need to be deconstructing our identities
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.currently
hello reader,
what do you mean