I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

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.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

I am below everything.

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

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

It Will Get Lighter

i have read not even 1 book

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

lol

yeah

lol yea

Worse Lift

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

fw

IWGD

Thank you, Jack

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

idk

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch