"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.
is everyoneback on tumblr now
so an active mazelike process
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
no like which do people call me
or never left
is this you as well
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."