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.
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
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.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
no like which do people call me
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.its performative
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
in a post. I want to be remembered
my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
propensity within someone
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
...