Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
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.
...
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
wait what is that
i really havent
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
i see a website
the site i am dreaming
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
and the fake qualifier
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
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
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.
kind of mythopoesis
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch