Better Lift
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
but really the thing should be autonomous
and the fake qualifier
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'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.