it is hopeful

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

much more tactility

its performative

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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

not their contents

division of reality is straying away from it

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

magnetisation/form

IWGD

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

I am below everything.

Worse Lift

all that is to say

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

what do you mean

i was tempted to lie about my name

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.

the site i am dreaming

no like which do people call me

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

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

i really havent