It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

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.

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

Better Lift

Today I felt like starting

kind of mythopoesis

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

Better Lift

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Lift Analysis

Picture

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

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

i have read not even 1 book

you have a beautiful account btw

its performative

I am below everything.