its good short few pages

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

autonomy of learning

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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 wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

as in

magnetisation/form

I am below everything.

"Put a blanket."

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.

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

IWGD

you cannot feed someone truth

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

Rain, starting

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

Picture

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

in a post. I want to be remembered

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

not their contents