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

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.

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

I am below everything.

you have a beautiful account btw

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

send link

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

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

the site i am dreaming

and the fake qualifier

December 2025

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Slug

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it