idk

i want to do that too

like magnets

send your tumblr

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.

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

and the fake qualifier

that looks like my instagram account

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

i have read not even 1 book

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

sorry i am texting like a slav

fw

no like which do people call me

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

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

magnetisation/form

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

your feed looks like my tumblr

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.


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

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.

lol yea

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.