I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
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.
your feed looks like my tumblr
god being the centre magnet
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
lol
send your tumblr
brb i will read and reply sincerely
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
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
i have read not even 1 book
autonomy of learning
Lift Analysis
was it worth it