The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

much more tactility

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.

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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but i respect your search

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Style

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Thank you, Jack

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

13, H, grate