I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.
yeah
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
idk
that looks like my instagram account
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
plato
really i want the internet
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
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Thank you, Jack
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
not their contents
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
its performative
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
...
so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities
and the fake qualifier
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you