But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.
your feed looks like my tumblr
feel you
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
i have read not even 1 book
idk
we need to be deconstructing our identities
fw
i really havent
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
isaac
whats your name?
wait what is that
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
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
like first name
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
that looks like my instagram account
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
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.
hiding from the rain