to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
currently
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
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.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
no longer writing in the third person
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
I am below everything.
13 |
|
|
H |
|
|
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
|
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
it is hopeful