It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

send your tumblr

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

what do you think my name is

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

god being the centre magnet

feel you

autonomy of learning

Slug

i want to do that too

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

and the fake qualifier

the site i am dreaming

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

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

It Will Get Lighter

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

it is hopeful