brb i will read and reply sincerely
really i want the internet
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
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
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.
what do you think my name is
"Put a blanket."
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
or never left
yeah
what do you mean
feel you
thank you
autonomy of learning
yes
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
we can only engage in such a way
is everyoneback on tumblr now
fw
lol yea
i was tempted to lie about my name