somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
that looks like my instagram account
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
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.
currently
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
i have read not even 1 book
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.is everyoneback on tumblr now
your feed looks like my tumblr
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
much more tactility
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
or never left
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying