I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.

"Put a blanket."

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

It Will Get Lighter

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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the site i am dreaming

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

all that is to say

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

propensity within someone

i really havent

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

we can only engage in such a way

plato

sorry i am texting like a slav

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