fw

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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

13, H, grate

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.

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.


"Put a blanket."
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."


it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

...

...

send link

the site i am dreaming

Slug

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

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

It Will Get Lighter