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 textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

Style

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

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

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

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within 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.

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

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

it is hopeful

no longer writing in the third person

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

Better Lift

you have a beautiful account btw