i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

no i haven't really read anything

its good

much more tactility

whats your name?

yeah

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

sorry i am texting like a slav

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.

god being the centre magnet

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

plato

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

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

you cannot feed someone truth

hiding from the rain

but i respect your search

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

isaac newton

barren land

magnetises a pin

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

its performative

plato

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

have you read

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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

propensity within someone