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.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
abrar?
like first name
its good short few pages
is everyoneback on tumblr now
i understand
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
yes
"Put a blanket."
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.