there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
I am below everything.
"Put a blanket."
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
really i want the internet