After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

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.

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

no longer writing in the third person

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

yes

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Thank you, Jack

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.

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

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

autonomy of learning

you know who you are. no more time, not like

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Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations: