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.
yeah
its good short few pages
sorry i am texting like a slav
send link
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
December 2025
what do you mean
We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.
A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
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.
...
...
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
i understand
hiding from the rain
we need to be deconstructing our identities
Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.
was it worth it
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it