i love it here
no longer writing in the third person
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
"Put a blanket."
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch