a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.autonomy of learning
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
in a post. I want to be remembered
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
division of reality is straying away from it
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
much more tactility
not their contents
hiding from the rain
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.