"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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.

in a post. I want to be remembered

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you cannot feed someone truth

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.

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Worse Lift

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

division of reality is straying away from it

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

Thank you, Jack

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

sorry i am texting like a slav

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.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.