It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

really i want the internet

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

sorry i am texting like a slav

not their contents

no like which do people call me

yeah

autonomy of learning

isaac newton

we need to be deconstructing our identities

feel you

its good short few pages

its good

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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

i was tempted to lie about my name

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.

propensity within someone

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

what do you think my name is

division of reality is straying away from it

much more tactility

i want to do that too