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.
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.
Thank you, Jack
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
its performative
I am below everything.
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
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
magnetisation/form
Lift Analysis
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Can I see
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue