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The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
and the fake qualifier
I am below everything.
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific....
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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