abrar?

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

ahnaf abrar

and the fake qualifier

and the fake qualifier

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

i want to do that too

lol

idk

bro i read nothing in my life

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.

2 (actually index). two is company

its good

fw

whats your name?

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

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

autonomy of learning

isaac

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

which magnetises chains of pins

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

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.

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.

send your tumblr

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

i really havent

Rain, starting