what do you think my name is

i really havent

barren land

bro i read nothing in my life

its good

and the fake qualifier

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

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

no like which do people call me

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

we need to be deconstructing our identities

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

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

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

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.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

that looks like my instagram account

I am below everything.

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

isaac newton

i see a website

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

...

I Write Goodbye Letter

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46