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'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.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.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc."Put a blanket."
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
but really the thing should be autonomous
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
which magnetises chains of pins
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
brb i will read and reply sincerely