we accidentally imagine

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

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

which slantingway or

combination making one thing work

and another not? the

vibrations more quiet every time we

lean our ears closer trying

to hear inside the sounds.

we are aware of our actions

but try not to notice. the

sun outside making this

fuzzy kind of sound against

the grass. we pause and just

breathe for a while. where again

the thisthat theringly,

the second hand ticking by

again and again while all

these angles crackling, we

breathe for a while longer and

the sun keeps making that

sound and we keep sniffling

from seasonal allergies. a

bird call we don't

recognize. we can't help but smile

at the sound of people

laughing and somehow the voices

make this sort of harmony

against the windchimes and we

hear all these acoustic

vibrations buzzing inside our

chests and making us feel not

warmer but more okay. more

okay.

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.

fixed link mutable link

while ?” this for a while

?” smell it does. the, for

once, the smell it smell of

damp notice how everything

is we so now we don't stay

don't like this for ?” for

while ?” and once, it,, it does

. of damp sticks from

outside.. of outside of damp.

the smell for. the smell for

it does

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

in the ask ourselves

where they ask ourselves what

groove and scrape along and we

care knot lot about the wires

behind the if someone did it of

if these things purpose

sort. and feel like that the

incense , it enough outside to

open and hands floorboard

and ask what caused each and

and and scratch on how each

the desk happened , if desk

if these just sort happen

things happen on our floating

incense is somehow foreheads

foreheads, outside to the

sensation hands now we they came

from scrape along and on the

face about knot wires just

happen their own and for a

moment and bodies , that the

might warm outside outside to

open windows now. we breathe

and feel notice small dents

in floorboard from panels

every and walls of

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.

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

of us smiled first

amplifying across a the of it many

things going on all at once,

story in a jam a every note in

time. but there.. none none

of them be from real and

ceiling arriving to be from

these situations branching

these entire fanning,

options after options

possibilities fanning out into some

some incomprehensible

options options impossible to

weigh we we saw first and with

the and that seems as good as

at least we left. all

different dealing don't know why

of us smiled group of

social of us us across they

there going on a different

life story in every single

single car in this struggle

piano. more sky seeming like

sky seeming like emails

just the just another keep

arriving and seem to be, all

situations branching stories

possibilities some weigh, after

options impossible out into

some incomprehensible into

some with the one that seems

as for now at least don't

don't remember different

circumstances and different

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

. don't things don't

things don't to have that make

don't have to make sense, that

can happen we remember that

illusion of illusion sort of

illusion step taking a things to

happen between so own actions

much so much so much or off or

tangled somewhere near spoiled

food over the this is a

beautiful thing. be, if we watch

ground drift the drift to the

its strange same together

the same time somewhere

with a goal a goal and,

standing some role in even when is

are why saying or why they

are we ourselves are saying

or why we are saying

something outside, and rising it

about they are shaped the are

shaped the they are when so poem

or explain thought,

thought build a chord and roll up

our sleeves when up our

there on our desks voice

combinations relationships up their

prefer illusion way

smallvoiced reminder smallvoiced

reminder of place in a place in

pictures for or have names for

grip on and colors is a

librarian or old we though the came

back old ventilation fans

turning remember, hurtling

toward , minute shapes never

shapes and growing, never to

ones expect in ones we expect

in expect situations

where things some kind have

that things that things

don't have to make to make

sense sort of illusion

another that taking a allowing

which don't make between

temperature outside today the

temperature outside today, our

minds and our shoelaces or off

tangled off tangled up in a

trashbag a control over

ourselves over ourselves,

beautiful thing. thing. is a

beautiful thing. be the ground

strange path in its strange path

at the the with somewhere

with a, standing, air's

falling goal and just falling in

the air's the air's path

air's falling in the air's

supposedly pushed on even when

anyone saying or saying or why

they saying don't quite

understand why we something

outside, why they write a poem or

explain many so many chord and

roll up our sky, our on voice

relationships imitating meaning make

for their emptiness their

emptiness or to think of again,

down the, again, a again pale

blue of a grain of sand grain

sand out of book recognize

even good grip on shapes and

shapes sure not sure if

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.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

, what if someone were

listen (we suspect and write

things as they were trying to

down if they write things

down stop and worrying and

about what might be for cross

thing why for about tomorrow

or we cross one thing out in

place particular sense, pen

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.

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

. who we don't to we don't

don't know who are know who

what systems lives lives

fracturing our lives glue things

back together together glue

architectures in the and we begin,,

chair too singulars not

having having so singulars not

having we we are to who we we we

are praying for, fading.

our lives fracturing apart

piece by piece and and begin to

feel we arms a too narrow

narrow a, plurals and

singulars having so much

significance to now the lights are

pray don't know who we are are

are praying who we are

praying for, what we want around

us our lives glue things

back together the the mind

architectures in cathedrals

architectures mind as we realize stood

up up we haven't stood

pressing to but don't know who we

praying who who we are praying .

us and our lives to glue and

and poems , to feel this

little, much significance now

when lights now we want all us

we keep poems and

cathedrals jittery jittery as

realize we stood hours sides of,

plurals and significance to

when subtly. we pray but. .

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

of incense incense the

of of incense is in our

lungs lungs we breathe and we

and we breathe and we

breathe we ask questions ! funny

but it funny how we can't

help but we help sun starts

coming of these colors whose

whose and names remember

still glowing and we breathe.

we forget breathe and our

lungs ask funny we sun starts

coming back right coming

remember lines whose names we

remember lines and names we can't

remember stick glowing we and

becoming in our lungs questions.

ask questions. laughing

breathe. we we! isn't laughing

ask.! funny how we when the

shades of many and so remember

that the we is still glowing

somehow of incense is glowing

and somehow smoke in our

glowing and

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.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

faster repetition

getting and with conversation

mistakes. a getting, faster

fewer mistakes conversation

going on outside pretend we

aren't accurate, a little

faster and with little faster

and little faster and with

becoming heated on we becoming

heated on we best we pretend we

aren't to our best to our best we

do going on faster and with

fewer mistakes and with

accurate, a little accurate , a

little a little more accurate

little accurate, a fewer

mistakes and with fewer going

little mistakes more accurate

, more accurate and with

fewer and with. the becoming

heated aren't listening we

aren't every repetition

getting and with. a little with

becoming we do our pretend we.

little repetition faster on

outside becoming heated while

conversation going on outside

becoming we do our on heated

aren't listening. every

repetition faster and with fewer

little getting a accurate ,

faster and with fewer going

best we do our while we heated

while we do every repetition

getting and more getting a with

fewer mistakes and outside

while we do our outside fewer

and outside becoming

heated aren't heated do our

best listening do on outside

becoming heated while we. every

repetition getting, a little, with

becoming heated while we do

heated while we do our best to

pretend we to aren't getting,

little more a getting a little

listening. aren't listening.

every a repetition getting a

little more mistakes. with

fewer mistakes. going on

outside do our best we do our best

we while we heated while we

do our best to aren't every

repetition little more accurate

aren't getting a a

conversation going becoming heated

on to do to heated do our

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

. and sometimes are and

sometimes they not. and sometimes

okay, and sometimes one

without sometimes they that we

we go from one to to the and

sometimes they are, and and from

one to the we one to the other

without not okay , and are, and

sometimes it happens the other

without even are , and sometimes

sometimes to the even are not

sometimes we from one to other

trying things are okay okay,

sometimes from one to from trying

are not they the other and

and sometimes it and

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.

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

kind of us wonder why is

squirrels climb trees of quickly

and we wonder a joke a

sentence one another, and facts

falling the hugs, paints and

violins and we circles

themselves the other changing is

and we can somehow feel on

our skin a anything at. are

we don't care. we care and

have made like laughing on

our arm the music just keeps

going, the wind keeps pushing

, and an see everything

around and how moves around.

eyes by floorboards pushes

bits wonder why cars end a

punchline, last

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

we begin to laugh

questions so second comes , is,

important we why we can't good

question or how we read we laugh,

and laugh we laugh and we,

and. we wonder might what

might changed anything

actually changed over actually

changed over idea that and ?” and

we to answer . answer. we

don't know don't. and, and

laugh, and laugh. laugh and

laugh can't see why these, and

laugh we see the it minute or

second comes so much more

important like the or how we we

laugh, and and. wonder

actually we unexpected question

“who you ?” know and know. and

then to we begin to cry, and

laugh. can't we see in we see

are so first place when

question comes so we why we,,,

much more so we, good

question to how handwriting, and

we laugh, what wonder

anything if anything if. the

nothing really changes. we ask

ourselves ?” and are. we don't we.

laugh see why these questions

seems like every minute

second so, question ears to

important important can't why we

to begin question to with

moment or how we are

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.

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.

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.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

sight . and wonder if

it's, now us behind in notice

how strange wind moves it

around into different but

somehow paper so well legible .

legible the might misread a

smudges might us technique

would be better, moment. and

feel the legs. really just

about, wonder if would listen

we've never sounds of all

these people met and

conversation , pointing toward

explain to each they the each to

learned explain to each learned

about to they these little

motions , events forth leaving

any sort of eventually ,

eventually fade eventually,

statues collapse and fade

eventually, and things just do what

they always were going were

going anyway. we try to

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.

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

permeating while we

concrete, all these colors

colors and watch outlines of of

making making and trangles

themselves, shapes sort of making

themselves up up pushing which

always seem. not going the

wrong direction. fall

direction fall in the the wrong

direction. way we expected going

the or intended, but be the

point maybe that could could

be the point. goals

sneaking into point. goals

sneaking be the ideas ideas into

paints and while we. it squares

making relationships pushing

buttons and geometries and

relationships which in expected but

maybe maybe the thoughts

goals sneaking and

interactions. spray paints and ideas

ideas permeating with a just

just happens outlines of

squares and things making

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

three.

twenty two.

five.

twenty.

twenty seven.

nine.

seven.

fifteen.

thirty one.

thirteen.

twenty nine.

twenty one.

eighteen.

nineteen.

two.

six.

sixteen.

seventeen.

twenty five.

twenty four.

four.

twelve.

twenty three.

one.

thirty.

eleven.

eight.

fourteen.

twenty eight.

zero.

ten.

twenty six.