that looks like my instagram account
much more tactility
...
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
not their contents
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
your feed looks like my tumblr
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
or never left
idk
"Put a blanket."
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.
I am below everything.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet