Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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

Worse Lift

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


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.



something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

ahnaf abrar

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.

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

send your tumblr

plato

hiding from the rain

what do you mean

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

was it worth it

so at the end