"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

but i respect your search

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

i love it here

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

whats your name?

isaac

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

send your tumblr

your feed looks like my tumblr

barren land

Can I see

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

sorry i am texting like a slav

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.

so at the end

god being the centre magnet

i dont understand magnetisation

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

that looks like my instagram account

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

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