whats your name?

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

hiding from the rain

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.

much more tactility

i see a website

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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


we want to live the knowledge too live the content

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

idk

send your tumblr

so an active mazelike process

I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
part of an old note. It will get lighter.

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.