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.

thank you

13, H, grate

It Will Get Lighter

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

kind of mythopoesis

really i want the internet

i see a website

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

I am below everything.

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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