My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
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.
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
autonomy of learning
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
"Put a blanket."
not their contents
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
I am below everything.
its performative
Can I see
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.