but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

It Will Get Lighter

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.

13, H, grate

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

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