Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.
you cannot feed someone truth
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
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
kind of mythopoesis
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
send link
magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you
barren land
was it worth it
its good
i have read not even 1 book
plato
division of reality is straying away from it
we can only engage in such a way
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
no like which do people call me
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.
whats your name?
send your tumblr
wait what is that