Better Lift

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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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

I am below everything.

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

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.

no longer writing in the third person

its performative

so at the end

ahnaf abrar

is this you as well