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you know who you are. no more time, not like

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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.

abrar?

Thank you, Jack

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.

i was tempted to lie about my name

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

I Write Goodbye Letter

...

what do you think my name is

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

Better Lift

feel you

yes