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

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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


13, H, grate

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.

It Will Get Lighter

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currently

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

Better Lift

IWGD

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

you have a beautiful account btw


so at the end

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

no longer writing in the third person

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

so an active mazelike process

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

Style

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

propensity within someone

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

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.

As we're stood there I notice a middle-aged woman staring at us across the room. I'm trying to catch her gaze, but its kind of vacant. I guess she sees me looking and considers it to be an invitation. She floats over to us in this strange dazed way, and on the approach I realise she's staring at (through?) my Korean colleague / fresh meat. She's saying wow, wow, wow. She seems genuinely so delighted, so shocked, so elated.


Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.