Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
you cannot feed someone truth
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.
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
i really havent
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
i really havent
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
was it worth it
bro i read nothing in my life
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
all that is to say