One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"Put a blanket."
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
feel you
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
is this you as well
there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.
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
no like which do people call me
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
ion