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.
you have a beautiful account btw
ion
abrar?
plato
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
that looks like my instagram account
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
magnetisation/form
not their contents
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
like first name
its good