...
Today I felt like starting
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
it is hopeful
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox."Put a blanket."
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.