The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
no i haven't really read anything
Lift Analysis
god being the centre magnet
was it worth it
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
idk
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
lol
we can only engage in such a way
propensity within someone
sorry i am texting like a slav