Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i really havent
your feed looks like my tumblr
barren land
like first name
that looks like my instagram account
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
send your tumblr
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
lol yea
is everyoneback on tumblr now
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
yeah
god being the centre magnet
thank you
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
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
December 2025
and the fake qualifier
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
was it worth it
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.