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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

but really the thing should be autonomous

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

in a post. I want to be remembered

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

yes

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

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

It Will Get Lighter

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

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

i love it here

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

i really havent

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

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

bro i read nothing in my life

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

send link

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1