yeah

or never left

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

its good

god being the centre magnet

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

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away


...

wait what is that

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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.

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

have you read

Thank you, Jack

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

not their contents

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

really i want the internet

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

Can I see

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me