She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

Picture

Thank you, Jack

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

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.

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

wait what is that

...

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

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 Write Goodbye Letter

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

i really havent

2 (actually index). two is company

bro i read nothing in my life