There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
Today I felt like starting
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
"Put a blanket."
Better Lift
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
no like which do people call me
lol
i have read not even 1 book
send your tumblr
your feed looks like my tumblr
that looks like my instagram account
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
have you read
is everyoneback on tumblr now
isaac
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
barren land
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it