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.

so at the end

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

all that is to say

in a post. I want to be remembered

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

Lift Analysis

...

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.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

not so on: yvf(wthw)

autonomy of learning

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

...

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

no longer writing in the third person