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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
I am below everything.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
the site i am dreaming
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 wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
"Put a blanket."
send link
bro i read nothing in my life
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
yeah
much more tactility
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
its good
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
barren land
you cannot feed someone truth