After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

13, H, grate

I am below everything.

yes

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

that looks like my instagram account

i understand

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

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

But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

and the fake qualifier

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

hello reader,

wait what is that

what do you think my name is

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.