Air Conditioning and Sycamore Trees
The Anthropocene Reviewed
When My Brain Plays, What's Even the Point?
When my brain plays, what's even the point? What really descends upon me is a blizzard of blinding, frozen white light. It feels like the only way to survive life is to cultivate an ironic detachment from it. If i can't be happy, i at least want to be cool.
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