a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

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

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Better Lift

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

its performative

magnetisation/form

propensity within someone