i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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.
...
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
send your tumblr
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
idk
your feed looks like my tumblr