my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

really i want the internet

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.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

Thank you, Jack

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.