There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.no longer writing in the third person
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
hiding from the rain
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
division of reality is straying away from it
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
hello reader,
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.
...
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.
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feel you
bro i read nothing in my life