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

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.

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

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

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.

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

isaac

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

Worse Lift

i understand

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

but i respect your search

or never left

its good short few pages

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

its good

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

as in

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

Better Lift

we want to live the knowledge too live the content