After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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.

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

1

Worse Lift

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.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

whats your name?

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

your feed looks like my tumblr

isaac

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

you cannot feed someone truth

kind of mythopoesis

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

like magnets