Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

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.

Rain, starting

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

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

Better Lift

It's

dusk

Better Lift

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.

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.

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

Can I see

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

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

yes

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch