It Will Get Lighter

I am below everything.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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.

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?


"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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

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Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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

i was tempted to lie about my name

I Write Goodbye Letter

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

this will be about a slug

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

1

. way too specific.

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

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

i really havent

is everyoneback on tumblr now

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.