okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

"Put a blanket."

in a post. I want to be remembered

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

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

much more tactility

13, H, grate

so an active mazelike process

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

division of reality is straying away from it

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

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

really i want the internet

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

...

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

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

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.

you have a beautiful account btw

i understand

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

Better Lift

god being the centre magnet