much more tactility

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

in a post. I want to be remembered

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

Picture

1

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

hiding from the rain

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

wait what is that

brb i will read and reply sincerely