a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Lift Analysis

2 (actually index). two is company

Thank you, Jack

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

i understand

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

...

ion

is everyoneback on tumblr now

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

yeah

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.

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.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

and the fake qualifier

i really havent

fw

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41