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.
currently
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.
i was tempted to lie about my name
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.
its good
all that is to say
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.