After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

"Put a blanket."

not their contents

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Thank you, Jack

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

much more tactility

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

so the method has to be autonomous

I Write Goodbye Letter

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

you have a beautiful account btw