We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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.

Rain, starting

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

hiding from the rain

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.

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

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

no longer writing in the third person

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

ion

much more tactility

like magnets

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