hello reader,
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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.there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
"Put a blanket."
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
it is hopeful
no longer writing in the third person
hiding from the rain
but really the thing should be autonomous
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.