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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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.

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

in a post. I want to be remembered

Better Lift

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

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.