whats your name?
but really the thing should be autonomous
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
hello reader,
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
I am below everything.
Can I see
i see a website
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.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
was it worth it
abrar?
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
...
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch