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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

hiding from the rain

in a post. I want to be remembered

magnetisation/form

but i respect your search

Style

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

you cannot feed someone truth

brb i will read and reply sincerely

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

i really havent

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

we need to be deconstructing our identities

no longer writing in the third person

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

no like which do people call me

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

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.