We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. 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.
like first name
i really havent
i want to do that too
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.i really havent
hello reader,
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
and the fake qualifier
no like which do people call me
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
Thank you, Jack
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
bro i read nothing in my life
your feed looks like my tumblr
sorry i am texting like a slav
that looks like my instagram account
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
god being the centre magnet