I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

and the fake qualifier

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

I am below everything.

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

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Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

hiding from the rain

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.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.

Rain, starting

no longer writing in the third person

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

autonomy of learning

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

"Put a blanket."

kind of mythopoesis

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Lift Analysis

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

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

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

It Will Get Lighter

division of reality is straying away from it