yeah

I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

yes

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 Write Goodbye Letter

not so on: yvf(wthw)

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

...

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

Thank you, Jack

have you read

ion

thank you

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

what do you mean

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.