nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
god being the centre magnet
magnetises a pin
He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
thank you
abrar?
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
Thank you, Jack, for telling me I'm just as bad as the characters (actually they're people, if that means anything to you) that I'm writing about.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?
yeah
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
lol
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.
send link
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
no i haven't really read anything
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.
in a post. I want to be remembered