Rain, starting

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

i understand

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

or never left

autonomy of learning

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

whats your name?

sorry i am texting like a slav

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

Style

currently

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

idk

you cannot feed someone truth

ion

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

barren land

magnetisation/form

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

no i haven't really read anything

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

your feed looks like my tumblr

isaac

abrar?