in a post. I want to be remembered
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
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
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 don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
not their contents
plato
lol yea
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.
we need to be deconstructing our identities
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
brb i will read and reply sincerely
it is hopeful
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
i have read not even 1 book
magnetisation/form
but i respect your search
no like which do people call me
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
really i want the internet
your feed looks like my tumblr