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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
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
feel you
your feed looks like my tumblr
fw
and the fake qualifier
ahnaf abrar
ion
barren land
isaac newton
or never left
...
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
i was tempted to lie about my name
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
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.
Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.