I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
Today I felt like starting
currently
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
"Put a blanket."
I am below everything.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
it is hopeful
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
no longer writing in the third person
in a post. I want to be remembered
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.
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.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.