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

It's

dusk

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.

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.

but i respect your search

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

like first name

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

plato

much more tactility

magnetisation/form

we need to be deconstructing our identities