There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.
...
feel you
the site i am dreaming
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
we need to be deconstructing our identities
and the fake qualifier
i understand
have you read
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
you have a beautiful account btw
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.
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
as in
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
your feed looks like my tumblr
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
i have read not even 1 book
you cannot feed someone truth
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
idk