Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Rain, starting

I am below everything.

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

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

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.

so the method has to be autonomous

bro i read nothing in my life