One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
in a post. I want to be remembered
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
feel you
my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
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.
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
much more tactility
is this you as well
no i haven't really read anything
so the method has to be autonomous
i really havent
as in
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
"Put a blanket."
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
magnetisation/form
so at the end
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
isaac newton
like magnets
yeah
send link
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Today I felt like starting