no longer writing in the third person

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.

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

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.

Worse Lift

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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

13, H, grate

in a post. I want to be remembered

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

i really havent

wait what is that

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

I Write Goodbye Letter

2 (actually index). two is company

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

It Will Get Lighter

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

magnetisation/form