no like which do people call me

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

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

Worse Lift

kind of mythopoesis

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

2 (actually index). two is company

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

so an active mazelike process

autonomy of learning

division of reality is straying away from it

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

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

IWGD