美的贵族性存在，其中一部分也依赖于身在底层当耗材的人们。我观察到的所有恶意，人们所有往下走的选择，也都跟善所以为善有关。这样想就没有那么愤世嫉俗了

好像突然通了跟他人解释是我在劳动，为了让他人舒服

身在荆棘，不动不伤

The fastest and the most direct way to understand the meaning of something or someone is to lose it/them.

Can one stop pursuing the truth and still call themselves a human being?

Depression is here, like a giant beast in the room. If I breathe it’d find me and shred me into pieces.

‘I heard you were a mess.’ ‘Oh, it’s fine, I can see an island of sanity. I’m floating close to it.’ (The Hack S1E6)

I live with precarity. I live on the edges, in marginalised spaces. I feel the weight of systems of any kind. But I refuse to turn suffering into leverage.

Is there a word for the politics of identity? Now that I’ve come to think of it, the uneasiness postcolonialism has always made me feel is that it attacks the identity of the speaker far more than his arguments.

The promise of Enlightenment values now exists in the form of constant sorrow, carried by the ethically awake who hesitate to judge. The shadow of those values thrives in indifferent, double-standard cynics claiming to be the true heirs of humanism. I’ve lost count how many.

How exciting to finally read Baudelaire’s landmark essay, ‘The Painter of Modern Life’!

When experience is turned into platform content, a vast, high-dimensional field of tacit knowledge (the immeasurable, embodied knowledge available in lived experience) collapses into a narrow, object-focused description that cannot preserve even a fraction of its informational density.

I see the beauty of the world, but I don’t feel it is meant for me. If sunlight or a breeze comforts me on a dark day, that is chance. God did not make them for me—only my mission. Feeling at home in the world may come from having first been loved within it.

If Death finds you in your happy days you’d be like “no way, too soon”. Only when there is no future you’d say “there you are, makes sense, it’s time”.

Majority. How secure you must be feeling everyday.

Met with my supervisor today about a marking job I took over from her busy hand. She said 70+ was normally the highest marks, and that she’d almost never given 80+. I said, “you did give me an 85 though. That’s what has pushed me to where I am now.” She said, “oh maybe I thought you’re exceptional.”

I’m relying on those war historical novels and poems. People in the stories survived war. I can survive whatever shit is ahead.

“To be radical is to grasp things by the roots. The root of humanity, however, is man himself.” Marx said this and who would have guessed “radical” could be translated as 彻底的