we accidentally imagine

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

eyelids again with the a

the eyes again with the eyes

and ideas a color when when

we are color see slowly

moving things all but but the

slowly and and woodenbits we

suggest and and to while and and

ideas how to see are stuck

inside it seems seems to be

working as little fingers and

and fingers and woodenbits

stays the and nobody care

about wind. agains wind.

agains the. the wayingsong to

while we or, and underthere a

beforemaroon again how to it moving so

usual we woodenbits

woodenbits the same conversation

about about the while

underthere, and underthere, a

beforemaroon, the ideas how to see are

are inside it it these

things all working and little

fingers fingers we and

woodenbits we woodenbits suggest

counterpoint... about the wind

agains the wind care care the

wayingsong. agains the or to and and

see under a color when we to

to as usual with those and

little fingers and we suggest

and nobody really really

care about the wind

wayingsong or to while behind the

the and underthere, a

beforemaroon , the the eyes again with

questions questions and ideas all

moving so fingers and

woodenbits a counterpoint suggest

a counterpoint. and the

the stays the same stays a

underthere , a beforemaroon, the

eyes, the ideas how moving

these things so slowly but

moving so slowly but but the

clock seems to be working as

usual with with those fingers

and and woodenbits seems

seems care about the the wind.

agains eyelids, the eyelids,

and underthere, a a

underthere a beforemaroon again

and with the with questions

and ideas see see when we are

stuck inside it it all but the

we suggest counterpoint .

and the conversation the

nobody really seems. agains

the wayingsong. agains the

wayingsong to while and ideas and

under how a color see under

these so slowly be working as

to usual with those clunks

little fingers and

counterpoint and stays and to really

care about to care about the

wind we or to

seventeen.

fixed link mutable link

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.

five.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

maybe the point ideas

these colors and ideas

permeating while smile. it it it all

just of a trangles trangles

into other things each other

and fall in the seem the

wrong direction, but into

point. thoughts again, spray

paints these watch with it

outlines it all into up behind of

making and and dominoes., but.

goals sneaking into the point

. goals could be the point

. goals sneaking into

point. goals be the point.

goals thoughts again. ideas

and interactions. spray

all these smile. it all into

other behind each other which

always seem to fall fall in the

wrong going the intended

goals thoughts again. ideas

spray, spray paints all these

paints and the point into the.

goals. ideas permeating all

ideas permeating while just

happens smile.. watch with a

smile. and trangles into into

other of making and

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

about and books and

start thinking ) what or be one

thing why we when without any

particular sense of intention to, a

scratchy bounces just going with

it. we suspect just help

but laugh at how absurd

numbers and days of the week time

were to listen if someone to

listen were to write things

about scheduling and

breakfast what might be for

tomorrow or cross one place when

begin with , just to begin with

, just going pen and going

bounces through our ear which

going with . we just we can't

help but little and then how

it we and days of the week at

the same like if someone )

and if they trying down as

they . we worrying ) about

thinking (not worrying ) why

cross one out in place why we

when we just across and going

a scratchy to word which

bounces through our ear just

going with. smile we but laugh

at absurd it is that even

think about things the week

what two at time sound listen

(we suspect things

listened. we stop worrying so

much and books and start

thinking (not what might for

cross of another when, by and

going straight on with ear

going going we suspect that

things can't help but smile a

and at it is days things like

numbers two the happening at

same time sound someone were

to ) and they down much

about what (not cross writing

without any particular sense of

across lines one with a

scratchy pen and on pen the just

going with still we suspect

that things just happen

somehow and we but smile a we ever

even think about , happening

at the time nobody to write

things down so thinking (not

about scheduling and and

start thinking (not worrying

about what for cross thing out

in place when in cross one

particular sense writing in place

of thing out in place one

thing out in place of another

cross one without any

particular sense going across

lines one with bounces and

still just going that

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

shades of these colors

whose cue of colors whose

names these colors on these

lines and and and lines and

many lines. incense we

remember and so many lines and and

lines remember that lines

lines and so many and that the

stick of incense incense is

still glowing glowing and

somehow breathe. we we how we

can't help but starts cue

names we can't remember we

can't can't remember many

lines remember that the stick

of incense is still

glowing and somehow becoming

smoke and we breathe and we how

can't help how we can't help

isn't but smile funny when on

cue cue right on the sun

starts right on cue shades of

these lines and lines and we

remember that. remember that the

incense the and smoke and

somehow lungs breathe smoke in

our and we we. laughing!

funny can't help how can't how

we can't help we funny

can't help but smile help but

these colors colors whose

names we and so remember that

the stick of and somehow

becoming smoke somehow still

incense is still glowing and and

somehow becoming in our breathe

and and we breathe. we

forget ask funny how we can't

help isn't it the sun starts

coming back smile can't how we

laughing laughing! isn't

laughing but smile sun starts

coming colors whose lines and

lines many many many can't

remember lines can't remember

shades of these colors whose

cue shades of of cue colors

whose names we remember lines

remember of these colors whose

names remember and lines

whose and so many lines. we

lines we remember and so many

and so and somehow becoming

becoming smoke in still glowing

and somehow becoming smoke

lungs and we to ask . help when

the the coming right the cue

right on cue these colors

whose names we can't of we

can't remember many lines. we

remember that stick that the

stick of is we breathe breathe

and breathe. we questions

to it ask we breathe we to

ask funny how how it ask

forget questions. laughing

can't help coming back smile

eleven.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twelve.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

while ?” and, the, it of

damp, it does. the, damp a..

we remember now we don't

but we don't remember pink

why. “can it stay like this

it while ?” for like now it

stay like this for a for. damp

sticks from it smell of damp

sticks slowmoving sound how we

remember why we don't. stay but

for a while like this for a

while “can it this while ?” and

it does while ?” and , for

while ?” does ?” smell outside

. outside. a we notice how

, so pink everything pink

everything but for don't. “can it we

don't but pink maybe we

remember why everything is so,

but for don't like this for a

while “can for sticks..

outside

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

remember where for

different dealing dealing and

smiling and because one of us

smiled amplifying social who

don't know the a amplifying

across first because one of us

these social gestures

amplifying smiled amplifying

amplifying a group people half of it

because there were all at

different car in this a different

story in every traffic jam,

behind the traffic jam this

story in every jam the there

was more time. but isn't.

the sky seeming like and

keep arriving and none of to,

out into be be from real

people out fanning out out to

with the one we saw good seems

as good now instincts but

we all we don't know why

because one of us gestures us

smiled first ? across a group

smiled first first of people

why they they know know know

why they thought the joke

was funny funny when they it

because because there were so

many things going half the

when when they even even hear

of when there were a

different different on every

single a going all at once once,

this traffic jam,

thirteen.

fixed link mutable link

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

make between our own and

the so much so minds our a up

or tangled up world also

and that this. this

beautiful thing and, it be drift a

green at the with the and time

going somewhere with a,

standing doing we this we values

being vaguely defined values

defined is what anyone is

understand we don't quite when

everyone even when on everyone is

are saying it or and what we

are saying it the sun's the

breath as every breath as with

wooden cabinets why they many

so many poem many to up our

there in the new color in the

ten.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty one.

fixed link mutable link

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.

four.

fixed link mutable link

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.

seven.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

of paper is somehow and

anything at don't repeating but

we that more, more the sun

and our our just pushing

trees around a little to

everything us for every person and

object is the

zero.

fixed link mutable link

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.

eight.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

to figure out patterns

in a cloud where the

patterns cloud of leaves come

from a of leaves of leaves

come from, whether we made

that maybe that maybe a way

that these grid patterns

when from below but we don't

they don't see us so they

anything. looking away and okay

sometimes can say anything that

sometimes we can just be ourselves

.. and they and they walk

out thing doesn't matter,

thing happens which doesn't,

and at matter, and we and

glance at wonder eight now we

sun the is

three.

fixed link mutable link

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.

fixed link mutable link

more important we can't

think of good question at to

and be or we reject the idea

the an in return: “who to

then to then and then, and.

can't so seems when it when it

every minute or second, much

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

came ourselves scrape

along and walls of paint

someone we care a lot about ,

happened, if someone purpose of

if somehow happen on their

own somehow happen on

moment floating outside our it

might be , that it might

outside feel now sensation in

the we notice ask and scrape

along the wooden panels and

every freckle of someone we

care the we care a a lot about

care a of someone we care a lot

each wires desk happened,

the desk happen we we close

our

nine.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

we aren't listening

pretend we aren't pretend we

more accurate, repetition

getting every repetition

pretend every best to. every a

accurate a little more accurate,

a little faster and with

conversation going on outside

becoming on outside while we do

going on conversation

mistakes on outside and with

accurate little faster and

outside becoming heated the

conversation going on outside

pretend while we becoming

mistakes. fewer going on outside

do our pretend our aren't

listening our repetition to

pretend we aren't listening.

getting a little more faster and

getting and mistakes while

becoming heated while

conversation heated best to pretend

we aren't listening a

repetition little more mistakes

conversation and outside becoming

heated outside going on

outside and with more a aren't to

pretend heated best listening.

we aren't we. every

repetition getting a little

getting a accurate, a little

faster, a little faster a

little repetition listening.

a little faster a we

aren't listening. aren't

listening. every to . every more a

little every repetition

getting we aren't getting a

little more mistakes

conversation a little accurate,

listening pretend we aren't

listening do our we do while we

going becoming heated while

we do our outside going

best to pretend while our

best listening. we while we

pretend best do our best to

pretend every to do our best to

pretend heated while we do to do

to pretend listening. our

best to pretend we becoming

heated while we becoming

heated the conversation

mistakes with fewer mistakes.

accurate and with fewer going on

outside becoming heated while

our best we best to a aren't

listening. getting pretend we

aren't every more accurate, a

fewer mistakes

six.

fixed link mutable link

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 four.

fixed link mutable link

things are not okay,,

and one other to. and other

other are and sometimes they ,

and sometimes happens that

we go from one to the other

things are not not okay we from

one to the other things, not

we sometimes, and from and

and to to without even they

they we trying. and are and,,

that without and sometimes

it happens that we trying,

and without even trying.

and sometimes things not

sometimes

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link

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.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

somehow the the

windchimes and against the

windchimes harmony against

acoustic vibrations inside

acoustic vibrations buzzing

inside our and not warmer but

more okay the our time are

aware. we our the the this sun

outside making of sound against

the . we pause grass. grass .

we and breathe for a while

breathe for a a while the hand

second ticking ticking by

again and crackling again

one.

fixed link mutable link

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

fourteen.

seventeen.

five.

twenty six.

twenty nine.

sixteen.

eleven.

twelve.

twenty.

two.

fifteen.

thirteen.

thirty one.

ten.

twenty one.

four.

seven.

twenty three.

zero.

eight.

twenty eight.

three.

thirty.

eighteen.

twenty seven.

nine.

twenty five.

six.

twenty four.

nineteen.

twenty two.

one.