the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
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.
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 am below everything.
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.
kind of mythopoesis
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
yeah
is everyoneback on tumblr now
you cannot feed someone truth
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
your feed looks like my tumblr
as in
abrar?
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
i love it here
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
what do you mean
Better Lift
was it worth it