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.

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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

but i respect your search

i see a website

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

currently

kind of mythopoesis

i dont understand magnetisation

or never left

so at the end

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

your feed looks like my tumblr

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

its good

send your tumblr

much more tactility

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

plato

lol yea

no i haven't really read anything

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

whats your name?

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt