There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
it is hopeful
its good short few pages
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
much more tactility
fw
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
division of reality is straying away from it
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
lol yea
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.
autonomy of learning
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything