It Will Get Lighter

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

"Put a blanket."

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.

13, H, grate

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

It Will Get Lighter

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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Worse Lift

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

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

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

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting