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.

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Rain, starting

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Thank you, Jack

fw

whats your name?

isaac

i understand

which magnetises chains of pins

thank you

no i haven't really read anything

or never left

isaac newton

you cannot feed someone truth

magnetises a pin

what do you mean

not their contents