...

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

not so on: yvf(wthw)

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

i really havent

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

13, H, grate

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.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Lift Analysis

as in

ion

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

all that is to say