We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

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


Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

something religious, a kind of complex, it will get lighter, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Can I see

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

Style

i was tempted to lie about my name

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet