Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
"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.
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.hello reader,
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
...
send link
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books