Rain, starting

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.

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

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered

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 wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

kind of mythopoesis

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

idk

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

yeah

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them