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.
i love it here
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
fw
yeah
we need to be deconstructing our identities
ion
lol yea
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
i was tempted to lie about my name
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
autonomy of learning
magnetises a pin
in a post. I want to be remembered
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i want to do that too
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.
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.