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.

send link

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

god being the centre magnet

we need to be deconstructing our identities

no i haven't really read anything

what do you think my name is

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

i really havent

ahnaf abrar

like magnets

barren land

thank you

or never left

sorry i am texting like a slav

feel you

its good

that looks like my instagram account

i want to do that too

i was tempted to lie about my name

magnetises a pin

fw

isaac

bro i read nothing in my life

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

whats your name?

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

i love it here

is everyoneback on tumblr now

but i respect your search

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

in a post. I want to be remembered

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

so at the end