One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
your feed looks like my tumblr
not their contents
"Put a blanket."
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
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
as in
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
what do you think my name is