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 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.
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
in a post. I want to be remembered
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
autonomy of learning
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
"Put a blanket."
division of reality is straying away from it
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
we can only engage in such a way
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
but really the thing should be autonomous
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
Can I see