They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
"Put a blanket."
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.
kind of mythopoesis
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
Better Lift
Today I felt like starting
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
i see a website
really i want the internet
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
like first name