a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

plato

in a post. I want to be remembered

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

I am below everything.

currently

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

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

hiding from the rain

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.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

...

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

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

13, H, grate

like magnets

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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.

isaac newton

i love it here

what do you mean

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

sorry i am texting like a slav

ahnaf abrar

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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.