I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
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 wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
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
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.