i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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

It Will Get Lighter

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.

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

I am below everything.

It's

dusk

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

2 (actually index). two is company

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.

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

I Write Goodbye Letter

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

It Will Get Lighter

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

Thank you, Jack

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

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