its performative

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

I am below everything.

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

13, H, grate

Rain, starting

but i respect your search

in a post. I want to be remembered