"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

currently

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Better Lift

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41