I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
in a post. I want to be remembered
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 closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.I am below everything.
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
and the fake qualifier
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
wait what is that