"Put a blanket."

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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

It Will Get Lighter

as in

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

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.

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

we can only engage in such a way

autonomy of learning

all that is to say

1

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

so at the end

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.