i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

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.

whats your name?

god being the centre magnet

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

Rain, starting

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

in a post. I want to be remembered

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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.

i really havent

abrar?

bro i read nothing in my life

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

yeah

is this you as well

magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

I am below everything.

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

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

...

plato