Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
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.
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.
Lift Analysis
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
you have a beautiful account btw
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
no longer writing in the third person
Better Lift
...
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.
and the fake qualifier