which magnetises chains of pins
abrar?
plato
barren land
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
no longer writing in the third person
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.
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
and the fake qualifier
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.
i understand
or never left