i really havent

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

i have read not even 1 book

i dont understand magnetisation

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

Slug

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

plato

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

your feed looks like my tumblr

i understand

lol yea

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

what do you mean

i was tempted to lie about my name

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

whats your name?

and the fake qualifier

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

we need to be deconstructing our identities

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

I Write Goodbye Letter

send your tumblr

ahnaf abrar

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

1

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

December 2025

that looks like my instagram account

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13