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.
yes
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Can I see
Thank you, Jack
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.
no longer writing in the third person
i dont understand magnetisation
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
was it worth it
its performative