After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
"Put a blanket."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
which magnetises chains of pins
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
it is hopeful
was it worth it
no longer writing in the third person
or never left
is this you as well
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
we can only engage in such a way
feel you