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.
no longer writing in the third person
"Put a blanket."
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc."No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"