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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

Picture

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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

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

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

like magnets

its good short few pages

ion

no longer writing in the third person

sorry i am texting like a slav

its good

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

no i haven't really read anything