Style

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

"Put a blanket."

I Write Goodbye Letter

its good short few pages

what do you think my name is

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

Rain, starting

isaac

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.

as in

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

propensity within someone

not their contents

autonomy of learning

barren land

your feed looks like my tumblr

no like which do people call me

2 (actually index). two is company

It Will Get Lighter

division of reality is straying away from it

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

and the fake qualifier

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

all that is to say