like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
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.
idk
like magnets
which magnetises chains of pins
sorry i am texting like a slav
have you read
its good
i dont understand magnetisation
hello reader,
not so on: yvf(wthw)
no i haven't really read anything
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
that looks like my instagram account
you cannot feed someone truth
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
its good
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.
your feed looks like my tumblr
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.send your tumblr
fw