Worse Lift

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

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

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.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Better Lift

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.

13 | | | H | | | . . . . | . . . . | . . . . | . . . . | |

but i respect your search

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

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 know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

13, H, grate

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

It Will Get Lighter

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

which magnetises chains of pins

i was tempted to lie about my name