13, H, grate

Thank you, Jack

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

I am below everything.

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

you have a beautiful account btw

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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

Rain, starting

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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

so at the end

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

magnetisation/form

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

...

hello reader,

Thank you, Jack