We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
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.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
ahnaf abrar
i really havent
its good
like first name
lol
no like which do people call me
feel you
send your tumblr
...
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
wait what is that
that looks like my instagram account
really i want the internet
fw
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.
and the fake qualifier
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
was it worth it
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
so at the end
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
was it worth it
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