Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?

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.

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

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

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Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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."

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

plato

lol yea

so the method has to be autonomous

Worse Lift