stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
i understand
abrar?
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
wait what is that
god being the centre magnet
i really havent
fw
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 did until you asked which kind of gave it away
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
its good short few pages
like magnets
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
your feed looks like my tumblr
A procession forms behind the French Raj and his fireworks bearer as they head out the door. I've lost my Korean colleague / fresh meat in the chaos. I'm sure he'll be able to fend for himself. They have mandatory military service in Korea.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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.
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've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
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 want to do that too
As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
not so on: yvf(wthw)