no longer writing in the third person
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Today I felt like starting
Better Lift
I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
Thank you, Jack
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 stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.
its good
isaac newton