I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
so at the end
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
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
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.
It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
"Put a blanket."
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
It's
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
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