but i respect your search

I Write Goodbye Letter

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.

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

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

But seriously, thank you, Jack

i really havent

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

that looks like my instagram account

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

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life