Style

sorry i am texting like a slav

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.

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

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

but really the thing should be autonomous

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

so an active mazelike process

is everyoneback on tumblr now

so at the end

that looks like my instagram account

all that is to say

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

really i want the internet