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've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
like first name
no i haven't really read anything
that looks like my instagram account
sorry i am texting like a slav
isaac newton
whats your name?
yeah
ion
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
or never left
thank you
is everyoneback on tumblr now
barren land
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
yes
god being the centre magnet
your feed looks like my tumblr
is this you as well
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
Can I see
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
like magnets
"Put a blanket."