Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
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.
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
Better 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.
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Can I see
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
but i respect your search
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."