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

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.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

Better Lift

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.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

I am below everything.

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.

kind of mythopoesis