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

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

but i respect your search

hiding from the rain

no longer writing in the third person

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

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.

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

you have a beautiful account btw