your feed looks like my tumblr

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

autonomy of learning

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

division of reality is straying away from it

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

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.

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

Rain, starting

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

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

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

Better Lift

but i respect your search

13, H, grate

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

so at the end

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.

no longer writing in the third person