i understand

as in

Picture

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.

much more tactility

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

so an active mazelike process

i love it here

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

was it worth it

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

"Put a blanket."

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Thank you, Jack

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes.

isaac

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.