...

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.


Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Rain, starting

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

Worse Lift

plato

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.

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

or never left

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.

yeah

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

is everyoneback on tumblr now