Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life


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.

fw

lol yea

yeah

magnetises a pin

which magnetises chains of pins

...

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

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

is everyoneback on tumblr now

Slug

        13       |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
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and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging
Better Lift
"Put a blanket."

...

It Will Get Lighter

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

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.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.