so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
division of reality is straying away from it
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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.
Better Lift
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
send your tumblr
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.
amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
what do you think my name is
your feed looks like my tumblr
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Today I felt like starting
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
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.