It Will Get Lighter

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

13, H, grate

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

yeah

no like which do people call me

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

i was tempted to lie about my name

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.

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.

god being the centre magnet

its good short few pages

that looks like my instagram account

i understand