we can only engage in such a way

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

it is hopeful

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

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.

It Will Get Lighter

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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.

"Put a blanket."

Thank you, Jack

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

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