fw

what do you think my name is

bro i read nothing in my life

ahnaf abrar

i want to do that too

no like which do people call me

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.

yeah

send link

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

i dont understand magnetisation

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.

December 2025

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

I Write Goodbye Letter

yeah

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

hello reader,

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

abrar?

sorry i am texting like a slav

...

isaac