Never really thought about starship air conditioning until now! Im sure after constant recycling it would be as smooth as anything whipped thousands of cycles and mixed with stardust. I can attest to the hideousness of office building ac. where smells are not whipped through sterile microfiber filters but simply shuttled from upper levels and executive suites down to the masses hunched over their screens, where one particular duct never works, while the one just above you blows constantly.
“It’s the way that comfort and self-sabotage often look so similar and sit so close together that it can be impossible to tell them apart at all.” - my favorite line. Thank you, as always, for writing.
The contrast between Westfield Stratford and Tube non-AC is profound, the saving grace of Westfield Stratford for me was the Baltic bakery in the lower level // you remain my favourite writer on the inextricable body-ness of bodies // blown air at my in-laws in Georgia in August always felt like a profound lie.
as quite a Tall Person™️, I absolutely cosign the murderous intent of all ceiling fans.
westfield shepherd's bush (west) or westfield stratford (east)?
Yeah, this is brilliant.
Never really thought about starship air conditioning until now! Im sure after constant recycling it would be as smooth as anything whipped thousands of cycles and mixed with stardust. I can attest to the hideousness of office building ac. where smells are not whipped through sterile microfiber filters but simply shuttled from upper levels and executive suites down to the masses hunched over their screens, where one particular duct never works, while the one just above you blows constantly.
Never knew I wanted to read about air conditioning but now I do
“It’s the way that comfort and self-sabotage often look so similar and sit so close together that it can be impossible to tell them apart at all.” - my favorite line. Thank you, as always, for writing.
The contrast between Westfield Stratford and Tube non-AC is profound, the saving grace of Westfield Stratford for me was the Baltic bakery in the lower level // you remain my favourite writer on the inextricable body-ness of bodies // blown air at my in-laws in Georgia in August always felt like a profound lie.