Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

in a post. I want to be remembered

Rain, starting

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.

1

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

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

Better Lift

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

IWGD

but really the thing should be autonomous

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

kind of mythopoesis

god being the centre magnet

currently

its good