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.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

that looks like my instagram account

ion

is everyoneback on tumblr now

in a post. I want to be remembered

no longer writing in the third person

I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

much more tactility

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

we can only engage in such a way

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

13, H, grate

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

Style

Better Lift

hiding from the rain

abrar?

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

all that is to say

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41