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.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Lift Analysis

but really the thing should be autonomous

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

yes

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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