We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
i want to do that too
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
yeah
so the method has to be autonomous
magnetises a pin
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
bro i read nothing in my life
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
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
...
like magnets
I am below everything.
we need to be deconstructing our identities
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl