I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

Picture

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

yes

It Will Get Lighter

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Rain, starting

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.

i want to do that too

god being the centre magnet

It Will Get Lighter

but i respect your search

i have read not even 1 book

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

no longer writing in the third person

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

Thank you, Jack

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

feel you