Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?
...
the site i am dreaming
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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.
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
currently
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
plato
is this you as well
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
abrar?
was it worth it
i want to do that too
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.