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.

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.

Worse Lift

kind of mythopoesis

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

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

I am below everything.

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

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

It Will Get Lighter

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

13, H, grate

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