I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue


"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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

13, H, grate


so at the end

sorry i am texting like a slav

what do you mean

ahnaf abrar

its good

as in

was it worth it

Better Lift