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I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
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...
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 in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
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.
...
no longer writing in the third person
feel you
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
abrar?