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'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.

isaac

all that is to say

its performative

i have read not even 1 book

wait what is that

December 2025

magnetisation/form

2 (actually index). two is company

we can only engage in such a way

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

1

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

I Write Goodbye Letter

bro i read nothing in my life

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.

autonomy of learning

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

not their contents

no longer writing in the third person

but really the thing should be autonomous

kind of mythopoesis