Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
like first name
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
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.
all that is to say
autonomy of learning
so the method has to be autonomous
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
plato
my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given
ahnaf abrar
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.
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
no longer writing in the third person
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
fw
abrar?
i want to do that too
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
we need to be deconstructing our identities
feel you