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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Better Lift

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting


It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die. 

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hiding from the rain

no longer writing in the third person

Today I felt like starting

I am below everything.