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Thank you, Jack

no longer writing in the third person

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Can I see

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.

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

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

send your tumblr

bro i read nothing in my 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.

the site i am dreaming

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

hiding from the rain

was it worth it

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

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books