we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 961503

it is 2026. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

twenty nine.

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without with, with to
the next ear just going and
suspect help smile a and then
laugh at how absurd it and of
the the same time like
happening at time listen is ) and if
they listened stop they
about scheduling and start
worrying for breakfast tomorrow
place writing without any,
intention to begin with one by the
word and going with it .
happen somehow and and it is
that we think like numbers we
absurd that week same might
sound like if someone were to
listen (we write things and if
they were trying to write
things about scheduling and
worrying scheduling and
thinking breakfast tomorrow or
are without any particular
sense one by one on bounces and
still just just word which
bounces through our still ear
just going with it and our
word which bounces through
on to the bounces through
our with we suspect that
things smile a little absurd it
is at how ever at how absurd
a little laugh at it is
that ever even and ever think
about two at the same time
might if were (we if they (we )
and if they to listened much
and worrying and start
thinking (not why of another when
one thing of sense of across

eight.

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we accidentally
imagine ourselves as having for
a head this strangely
shaped box or a bird feeder with
a triangular roof or
something similar and we are
sitting in the front passenger
seat of an old car and someone
we care a lot about asks,
who are you? and we
think for a minute, and then
another. we aren't able to answer
with anything except a held
hand, and we somehow find
ourselves caring more about them
just because they asked.
they can't answer either,
and the grip gets tighter
and they aren't making eye
contact but that's okay because
we aren't looking anyway
and we are both these
strange wooden boxes attached
to bodies, heads without
eyes which still say so much,
eyes without laughinglines
which always find new things
to smile about an itch
behind our ears, the way this
piece of paper falls on the
ground, the sound of an overhead
lamp switching on laughing
about nothing in particular
and everything in
particular, wanting to want
everything and wanting to want
nothing, to feel everything and
to feel nothing, or at
least something the grip
getting tighter and we remember
how okay it is, how
beautiful it is and how funny it is
that poetry and music might
be the same thing after
all, that hiding is okay
sometimes and being naked is okay
too, that sometimes things
lead to other things, and
sometimes they don't, and
sometimes things just happen and
they keep just happening and
they don't stop. they don't
stop and it seems like they
never will, so it starts
making sense to just accept
this and close our eyes and
smile a little but somehow
this feels impossible. we
get frustrated and start to
do things we don't want to
do, blaming other people
for things nobody had
control over in the first place
and jumping to conclusions
and making assumptions
about other people and their
intentions and what they want or
what they are afraid of. we
forget that they are us, that
their grip is getting tighter
and that nothing is okay for
them either. we remember
that their boxy head is
crying and we have been trying
not to notice. we remember
that we are all the same
person born into different
bodies, and that this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing. this is a
beautiful thing.

four.

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it's hard to speak
sometimes. we are frustrated with
ourselves for our
inconsistencies once at peace and
allowing things to be just the way
they are and want to be,
always taking action and never
taking action,
leftandrighting with the leftandright
once again wishing things
were a different way or that
the coin had landed on the
other face; we can't figure
out who we are, and we aren't
quite sure if that question
leads anywhere hard to find
the energy to say anything,
too many responses waiting
behind each option which never
seem to go anywhere
positive, anywhere that doesn't
hurt anybody or dissipate
into the grass as if nothing
had happened in the first
place and we begin to wonder if
anything actually did or does
happen or if we had somehow just
thought it all up out of some kind
of desperation and
confusion aimed at nothing in
particular, cycles going back and
forth but never quite the same
way, always surprising
somehow and adding to the
confusion and lack of any sense of
place, the feeling that we are
nowhere and the feeling that we
are getting nowhere.

twenty three.

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of dust and makes
resonant, how of cars turn their
to be part, a story bricks
to facts bucket, the and
the smiles, hugs, paints
keep doing notice. circles
muffled voices can't help but ,
landing how skin a moment don't.
if things somehow we care
and caring about that made
us more happy or feel like
on our blood skin and going
keep smiling and in instant
are for person and object is
the air moves tones being
absorbed by the into kinetic so
wheels. wonder in out of, last
bricks clinging glue the
opinions and same bucket paints
and keeps ticking best
pretending not muffled from can't
help but the all around sun is
and we can our moment we at
all know themselves we
don't. that's perfectly
because about that would or,
more like the sun and our just
keeps keeps trees around in an
instant we are to us what it every
person and air these the eyes
without turning away energy
pushes bits of dust and so trees
the to joke without a
without these bricks clinging
to one one after another
the and facts fists we to
notice. on themselves muffled
but every moment all how the
sun is landing on can
somehow feel at all. we know if
are themselves or care
caring about more human arm
through music

ten.

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we ask ourselves some
question we can't hear, muffled
because our heads are
underwater, this cold sensation
pressing on our foreheads while
we feel our socks becoming
heavy, cottonfibers grabbing
skin and dragging behind our
feet, cold passing between
our toes. maroon painted
walls and a thick sweater,
crinkling plastic bag full of
snacks. we notice it is becoming
later every moment, and that
as soon as we count one
number there is another in
front of that, always room for
another one or zero or eighty
seven or pencilcase
dirtyshoe, these power outlets
rusting over even though we
can't see where the water
could have come from fading in
the carpet telling which
way people walk most
without asking why they walk it
so often when it seems
there are so, so many other
ways to go and that this way
isn't even the easiest or most
efficient or beautiful or
surprising: they are taking the path
because it is the path they take,
and we can't help but
laughalittle at how beautiful that is
not to say that one is better
than another or that anyone
is wrong for going the way
they do or that we think we are
better than going that
particular way to the couch, but
that we know in the end we are
going to go that way too and
that's just fine. it's just as
good an option as any so we
don't see a reason why not it's
beautiful enough and it's
surprising enough and that itself
may be the most beautiful
and surprising thing of all
at the moment.

thirteen.

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we wait for a few minutes
and wonder if it would be
okay for us to ask now: "is
this beautiful?" we wonder
if nobody noticed and we
watch the air just sort of move
around through the leaves. we
take another breath with the
sunlight and feel warmer.
throughs and arounds
behindingly the now nowing while
again the time continues and
stops and continues again.
circles of ink we close our eyes.

twenty one.

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we wonder what would
make us happy, what would
make this headache go away
which keeps distracting us
from everything going on the
scratching pens and observations,
a quote out of context we
leave the incense burning
when we go to sleep even
though we know it's a fire
hazard and it puts our lives in
danger and the lives of all the
other people living above and
below us, and all of the people
we know and the people who
care about what happens to us
even though we never asked
them to. we wonder why it
should matter that something
happens to anyone, we wonder why
we care. and everything is
so quiet.

thirty.

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we laugh we wonder what
might next years. we reject
the idea that nothing
really changes and “who are you
?” are you ?” we know. and
then we to. begin laugh,
laugh aimless in the question
comes to our, we can't of can't
think good we we, and we we
wonder what actually changes.
really changes really and we
reject ourselves an ourselves
are know. and then begin to
cry. and then laugh, these
questions place when second a new
is ears which

seven.

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tangling wires into
these bizarre shapes, rugs
with strange colors and
melodies waitingly, taking deep
breaths before the speech where
we finally speak our
minds: "won't everybody
please, please stop this
cruelty? can't we see how
unnecessary it is?" some glass
window creaking under winds,
some oil spilled in a parking
lot. how again the why's and
who's before and after or some
some behind throughingly, a
manual for writers of research
papers about electrical
engineering and game theory,
complex analysis and early
marxist painting; the
walls of this place have
shoulders that are
sagging, somewhere in these
pages an actual answer to a
question that matters. a new pair
of jeans, a holiday
decoration left up for months, a
lightbulb which doesn't fit even
though we could have sworn the
size was right at the store.
color combinations making us
feel sick and wonder why we
care about the dissonance,
why we should prefer one to
the other. we conclude that
we're all just bits of air
moving with the waves of some
song we can't hear: now
banging on the wooddrums, the
thoughts and the doubts, hopes or
imaginations throwing fists at the
organ keyboard, some body of
loud waters, some
electrical structure groaning in
rains particles trapped in
the breezings, the sine
waves, the eyeballs thrown
left and right or up and down
or is that a sign of
happiness, of
peacefulness? who's to tell what's
harmony and what's dissonance?
who's to tell the words of the
song when each moment's just
a few bits of data? hard to
see the picture from a
pixel, hard to find the poem
through a word a letter an inkdot
the arounds and behinds
lost somewhere in the mix,
the breath being exhaled
before we even noticed it was
inside our bodies, each note
rising just a little higher or
just a little more like dirty
wallpaper: we ask each other where
it happened. where the
music got faster. where the
blue became green, where the
light was switched on and the
newer waves began to
interfere with things and distort
the shapes, canceling out
or multiplying or
performing more complicated
operations until the noise is noise
and the signal is noise and
the noise is still noise yet
somehow wider, more sideways
and spinningly and
uppingly and backwardly, more
harsh and out of sync, now neon
colorlines and batteries, strange
gaps in the spiral not
patterns but something about
them which makes us feel the
walls are moving further away
and the room is becoming
smaller, that one moment is
another and the second hand is
somehow different this time
around. we cannot help but go to
sleep again, this time with a
strange smile and already
looking forward to coffee. this
time with socks and a thicker
blanket. this time with the
windows open: and in comes the
cooler air.

three.

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how did we get here? the
questions which keep making their
way inside our mouths as if
we never could learn from
the last time we couldn't
answer and instead only become
more unhappy and began to
throw things at the walls with
some inexpressible anger
screaming and shouting with a red
face and bulging veins,
fists again and again against
the door not even caring
what's on the other side, too
caught up with the idea of the
door being there in the first
place another why and another
if causing the lights to
flicker and the stove to begin to
smell like something is
burning so we all try to remember
what we had done in the
kitchen last but we can't
remember, and even the attempts to
remember make us shout with fewer
words, make us scream with our
fingers and pound harder and
harder on the door while the
wood is splintering here and
there and the doorframe
appears to budge this time or
that time or this time again
and again and again

thirty one.

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sense, as they just as
they happen sort taking mean
could even away our own
actions own so much difference
between our between minds tied
or tangled up spoiled food
being that remember that over
the over the world control
over the world also having no
control over ourselves,
ourselves that this a beautiful
thing. thing. this thing.
that's completely okay if
that's completely following a
its same the path

nine.

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we are breathing. and we
are still breathing. one
thought and another passing by
in the street while we ask
ourselves if this is going
anywhere if we should instead be
focusing on something else like
the way the smoke is
drifting away from the incense
stick, or the sound our eyelids
make when we blink. is there a
place for rushing anymore?
the softmurmurs again,
reminding us about our breath: and
a little blue bird lands
on the windowsill. it is
singing.

zero.

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and all at once things
are so quiet, a tiny hiss
from the walls, distant
clanging of a ventilation fan. we
breathe with the sunlight,
passing clouds causing these
little pulses in the sunglow
and somehow we feel it in our
toes even though we can't
quite tell why the wind
chooses the pitches it sings
against the window, why one
harmony should point to
another, why every story has some
sort of climax where
elements and trajectories
culminate into some bigger thing
as if we had been heading
there all along as if there
were some kind of purpose
behind the penscratches or
where this leaf decides to
fall in this rotting pile we
notice a pain in our lower back
from bad posture and some
strange sense of pressure from
the bottom of our right foot
now the ventilation fan
slowing down into a periodic
banging; we notice a coin lying on
the ground but we can't make
out which side it landed on.
do we care? is it good to
care? would it matter if we
knew? we are staring at the
coin and the coin is staring
back.

eighteen.

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systems all around us
and our lives fracturing
breaking apart piece by piece as
we keep trying to glue
things back together with
words and theories and poems
and cathedrals
architectures in the mind and and later
in concrete, we begin to
feel jittery as we realize we
haven't stood up in hours, this
chair and its arms a little too
narrow, pressing against the
sides of our skulls, plurals
and singulars not having so
much significance to us now
when the lights are
flickering so subtly. we pray but
don't know who we are praying
to who we are praying for,
what we want, what we should
want. fading. fading.

nineteen.

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the corner of the room
empty except for the little
grooves in the floorboard, we
smile. the moments going and
going in such a beautiful way
that we can't take our eyes
off it, noticing just how
inconsistent things are, how blurry
and arbitrary the
differences seem between things and
people and ideas, how musical a
painting can sound the ink never
seems to dry.

seventeen.

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marbles in a glass bowl,
not going anywhere in
particular seeming to wonder where
the birds get their
melodies, their strange rhythms
tinkling or rubbing cardboard.
the dark bottle looking
right back, eyes glimmering
so loudly with the
sunlight or fluorescent
flickerings or uncharged
batteries. the lithium looking for
water. how's this different?
asking between colorshades
and subject matter like it
were important or something
or something or something
or anothersong
thismomentingly or an old box of cereal,
casting shadows longer than
expected somehow while the light
reflects in its own color onto the
walls and the nearby desk
surface, papers scattered from
months before piled over each
other, some important some not
so much, some with colors
and blindly drawn
paintings and some printed out
from an old black and white
laser jet printer, whatever
that means, whatever those
meaning.

twenty four.

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things things are not
okay, sometimes are , one one
to okay are not okay, it
happens that other even trying
are are we go from we from one
trying trying. and sometimes
they are go that one. and and
sometimes okay , they are, and
sometimes sometimes it and
sometimes it they to the other
without even okay and sometimes
, we go from the other
sometimes okay it other without
even trying. and sometimes
are we go from other without
. and

twenty five.

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best to pretend heated
while conversation going on
outside becoming heated aren't
listening a with fewer the
conversation faster and a little
going with fewer the little
faster a little going on
outside becoming going on
outside becoming heated while
listening. every repetition
getting more accurate a with
fewer and with fewer, little
aren't getting more accurate a
little little with more
getting a little little
mistakes . outside becoming
heated while becoming we
aren't getting a with fewer the
conversation a little faster and with
becoming we aren't listening.
aren't getting and with fewer
heated best do while outside do
to pretend we aren't
listening. getting more a little,
faster on outside becoming
heated best to a little more
accurate little faster and the
conversation going on outside
becoming our best outside
conversation going best to. every
repetition getting a little more
accurate. the conversation
going becoming heated aren't
accurate, faster and with fewer
mistakes while we do every a every
repetition. every listening.
little listening, a little
mistakes while we do every
repetition to . aren't listening.
every aren't do our best to our
best listening. we do our
best to pretend listening.
we aren't heated. the
faster a little accurate
little faster and with fewer
mistakes while we best getting we
aren't listening. little
repetition getting every
repetition getting. every to
pretend little, repetition
little more accurate, every do
going on the conversation
going on the conversation
going while outside do our
outside becoming our best
listening, a more accurate little
faster and with fewer mistakes
. fewer accurate. the
conversation going little mistakes.
the faster and the
conversation going best listening.
aren't listening. every
listening. every aren't to.
little more accurate, a
conversation going and with more
mistakes a little, a little
faster and with fewer mistakes
while we do our best to aren't
every more listening. every
repetition getting more getting we
repetition getting a every
repetition our best to pretend we
aren't to pretend we aren't
listening repetition pretend we
while we becoming heated
while our on outside going and
with fewer and the do the
conversation going on to heated while
becoming heated while we do our we
do heated aren't to our
best getting a little aren't
listening. every repetition
listening. every repetition. we
becoming mistakes. the
conversation going on we pretend our
best to pretend we
repetition getting a to pretend we
aren't we

sixteen.

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we lungs in our lungs we
lungs ask ask ask we we breathe
and we breathe and we
breathe and and ! help when help
smile colors whose right on
back shades of lines. we
remember and that the stick of in
our we breathe laughing we
breathe. questions. laughing!
isn't to ask.. we forget to we
forget. we forget isn't can't
help help smile funny how
can't how we help when the sun
starts coming back right cue
shades shades of these colors
whose names colors on shades
of cue of these colors
whose names on cue cue back
right on whose names we can't
lines remember that somehow
becoming breathe we we forget to!
isn't it funny how help right
cue and and lines. still
glowing becoming becoming
smoke in our lungs ask
questions. laughing! funny isn't
funny on cue starts the sun
starts shades can't of of these
colors whose names we whose
these colors we we can't can't
remember lines and lines many
many we remember that the we
breathe we when on cue we that of
incense incense is still
glowing in our lungs breathe we
breathe and we breathe and we
breathe forget funny! it smile
help sun sun starts when
starts coming back shades of
these colors lines and colors
whose can't remember lines
and lines. we remember

five.

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quietingly, the
softmurmurs not trying to say
anything in particular or
convince anyone of anything,
prefering to let things just exist
the way they are and stay the
same when they need to stay
the same and change when
they need to change, or not
even need to stay the same or
need to change but maybe
instead want to stay the same or
want to change, or rather: it
just happens. it just
happens, and it keeps just
happening. the softmurmers not
even speaking about what's
going on or what's not going on
but instead just
mentioning about whatever is on
their mind at that moment,
letting it out and letting it go,
the sound waves not
disappearing but echoing off a
thousand surfaces and every
blade of grass, split and
muffled and distorted and
echoed until they sound like
dead trees, the sun pushing
the waves around a little
through the screen door, gnats
in the air just sort of
moving around.

fifteen.

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struggle behind every
more there. emails keep
arriving none to be branching out
into entire, weigh we we end
and for now at go instincts
remember where we remember all
calling for different smiling
smiling and because why because
one of us and us smiled first
? these social gestures
group of people who these
social know why they thought
the joke joke joke funny
when of going,, a different
life in this jam ,, a a
different struggle behind the
piano. maybe there there
maybe if there behind single
car in this traffic note
more time just seeming.
emails keep to be be all these
situations branching out some
weigh. one one with and and
that seems as good as any we
saw first and saw just that
seems as, as go looking for
instincts where we left where
don't don't looking we left
them. all for we calling for
different dealing different
responses why because one these
know of us smiled first of
joke they didn't even hear
half were all every on
different life life story in every
single car in note in the note in
the piano more seeming like
and arriving and none of,
into entire into to options
with first and now but these
different circumstances calling
calling for different calling
different circumstances for
different, different ways
smiling. we we don't know why

six.

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silence and quiet now. a
small voice humming and
laughing in the other room. a
crystal or some melting snow.
behinds toward while again
around where's or why's while
leftandright shrinking silently. a
wooden creak. a scratch. all
centers things happening all
around, things just happening
and just being the way they
are. and we realize that this
is a beautiful thing. that
this is a beautiful thing.

twenty.

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for don't. why we don't.
this and, it does smell of
damp how , but for “can it stay
like a while , for once,
outside slowmoving is so we for
now we don't but don't. “can
it stay like this for a, for
once, it does. the damp
sticks from outside of damp
sticks a slowmoving sound so we
, so maybe we remember why
now why everything is maybe
“can while for once, it of
damp sticks. pink maybe we ,
we, but for don't but for
now “can like this does. the
smell ,, it does. the smell it
does. the from outside. a
sticks from it does damp
outside. a slowmoving is
remember now a while , does. of.
how everything. we notice
from outside. sound damp
outside. a slowmoving sound
notice how everything is maybe
now why we while ?” and, for
once, smell of damp outside.
damp sticks it a, stay like
this for and, for smell of
damp. a slowmoving from
outside. the and, sticks from is
so remember for. “can it
stay like this while ?” does .
the smell sticks. a
everything maybe now we don't. “can
it stay like a while “can
for. damp. slowmoving we
notice how everything. . we
notice how we remember why , but
we don't we remember it
stay like a while ?” smell of
damp sticks from everything

twenty seven.

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it might outside might
might be warm enough now.
stinging sensation and notice
ask the ask ourselves and
along the walls and face of
someone we knot behind, ,
someone someone did it on of.
like for a moment and are the,
be warm enough outside to
open be now now this we
breathe breathe and feel
sensation in small from along the
wooden panels and walls walls
of paint and the we care of
someone each happened, if
someone did happened did just
sort of of eyes for moment and
our bodies enough enough
outside windows now. we breathe
and feel this this stinging
stinging we breathe our our hands
dents the they and wooden of
paint every someone scratch
on face of someone, wires
the it on of own somehow.
like bodies are floating
like we are floating outside
our bodies the in our
foreheads , might be warm and feel
this we where from what
caused each wooden of paint
freckle and we care care a knot
did it just purpose of if if
these things just sort of
their own somehow.

twelve.

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we never seem to notice
the changes until they've
already happened. or at least
they are well into
happening. we wonder why that is:
the clouds evaporating and
the sun coming out, the air
getting so slightly warmer; a
single row of bricks painted a
different color. who the behinds
through before how's and where
when whenever the
againagain the words repeatingly
as we notice a little
cottonfluff drifting toward us. it
sticks to our ink, and we ask
again where meaning comes
from. a million coins being
thrown every instant, fields
of possibility so
terrifyingly wide staring us in the
eye so intensely we have to
look away and we notice this
little bug just flying around,
landing, and flying around
again. flying, landing, and
flying around again.

eleven.

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we keep asking
questions like “will this make me
happy?” when instead it might be
more interesting to ask what
it would sound like if the
leaves on every tree were poems
written on little sheets of
paper and everybody in the
world began to read them out
loud all at the same time and
then the wind began to blow
and the poems went flying in
the air all around and
everybody just watched it happen
in complete silence we
can't help but smile a little,
and then a lot. and someone
hugs the stranger to their
left and we all begin to
laugh. we ask ourselves
another question we can't hear
because of all the wind and
poems, and that's just fine we
realize we didn't want to know
the answers anyway when
there are so many confusing
and beautiful things all
around us anyway. we just keep
laughing and grabbing poems out
of the air, sometimes
deciding to read them and
othertimes using them as napkins.
the wind, the wind is
laughing too.

twenty two.

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but smile at the sound of
people people people laughing
and somehow the somehow the
voices harmony the feel not not
warmer thing the vibrations
more vibrations more quiet
every time closer trying to we
are to notice to notice the
outside outside making this
fuzzy the pause the , we we
breathe a longer and the sun
keeps we keep sniffling from
call we don't recognize a
bird help but smile of
harmony against us feel. making
our ears hear closer inside
inside inside the. the to
outside making the sun outside
this fuzzy

twenty eight.

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or , that maybe the urge
these grid patterns come the
sitting place, but we don't we
don't so they they so anything
say anything. noticed not
say anything we know, sight
. and doesn't matter,
thing matter

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
agains the wayingsong a
we or to while behind the
eyelids, and underthere, a
beforemaroon, the eyes again with
questions and ideas how to see
under a color when we are stuck
inside it these things all
moving so slowly but the clock
seems to be working as usual
with those clunks and little
fingers and woodenbits we
suggest a counterpoint. and the
conversation stays the same and
nobody really seems to care
about the wind.

two.

fixed link mutable link
because the longer we
stare at the details, the less
we are sure they even
matter.

one.

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and just like that, the
page turns for us. the next
series of random numbers fill
the screen and we begin to
imagine dots and we begin to
connect them and agree and
disagree with them, relate to
them and question them and
share them. the page glares.
we glare. everybody is
glaring and nobody is laughing
and then one of us starts
laughing, and another one of us
starts laughing, and we are all
laughing and the paper is
laughing and the inkdots are
laughing: the numbers are
laughing too.

twenty six.

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behind and seem and and
dominoes relationships pushing
buttons and dominoes which. not
we expected the ideas the
thoughts again. spray all these
colors and we watch with ideas
all ideas permeating a
smile outlines of other
things, shapes sort of each
dominoes. not going the that
point . goals sneaking into
maybe that could be the point.
goals be the thoughts
thoughts again. all with a smile
just squares things things,
making themselves the
geometries each other the behind
each other the seem and
geometries to fall in which which
always seem seem buttons the
geometries seem. not going the to
not going seem wrong
direction. or intended, could be.
, spray paints
,