Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
Thank you, Jack
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
idk
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
in a post. I want to be remembered
much more tactility
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
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.
so the method has to be autonomous
propensity within someone
barren land
autonomy of learning