I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

"Put a blanket."

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.

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

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

much more tactility

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

Rain, starting

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

we can only engage in such a way

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

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

you cannot feed someone truth

not their contents

Style

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

It's

dusk

Worse Lift

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13