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

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside. 

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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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.

I am below everything.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

it is hopeful

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

"Put a blanket."