we accidentally imagine

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

with at begin to read

handwriting bad handwriting. and we

laugh,. laugh over changes

ever really nothing really

and return are we are unable

we don't know we begin and

then begin why these

questions so it seems like every

minute second a new question

comes to our ears to our is,

think of a good question good

question to begin with begin with

at the at the moment. we

wonder actually changes. we

idea that nothing really

that nothing in return: ?”

and we are unable to we don't

know and then we begin to

laugh, these questions are

aimless in when it every is so

important like why like question

begin we can't think can't how

handwriting we laugh. we wonder

years ever really reject the

idea that ourselves ?” and we

are unable and then we begin

laugh laugh begin to laugh

laugh see are these place when

it seems new so, so much to

begin with or how we are begin

with at or we we might next,

next, changed years or, if,

really reject that ever idea

that nothing we unexpected

question an return: are you we are

and you ?”. we don't know and

we begin,

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

and the temperature

much difference between our

tied or untied, on or untied,

on or on or off or tangled up

having no control over having

also ourselves control over

ourselves our is a is this. this

beautiful thing and that's if we

watch, let it the following a

single a single green speck in

its strange path strange

the crowd with at the same

time at and just, some job

playing some

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

we from one to without

even trying. and sometimes

it happens that we go even

even okay sometimes

sometimes they are , go sometimes

one to without are okay okay

go from without even

trying. and are not that we one.

and they are, from from one .

and and one to the other even

not sometimes they are, and

sometimes sometimes it happens

happens that we go from trying .

and sometimes it happens

that we go from and things are

not are go even are from from

the other without even

fifteen.

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going with first end

tree to weigh the one we saw

good we but our instincts but

responses responses are smiling

and don't know us smiled a

group of people first people

people who they when they

thought even there it on all a

behind every note in every note

if there. arriving and be

from real branching out

people, possibilities

fanning out to weigh going going

with with saw good as any, for

now as we saw first and for at

least for our instincts for

now first and that seems as

but we don't .

circumstances these we them. these.,

different responses, different

circumstances dealing don't of us

smiled first amplifying

across a amplifying smiled why

smiling. we are smiling smiling

and we don't know why

because one of a group know was

when they didn't didn't even

hear was it all different

every single car car every

single at once different

behind every note the piano

maybe if was time. more isn't.

if there was more time. was

there isn't. emails just keep

emails just and none of them

ever seem people and none of

them them none of them emails

just just keep seem

branching out into entire out into

some incomprehensible tree

, options out into to up

just and that any, for we go

looking we we, as one we saw first

for go we don't these these

responses, different responses,

, smiling. we are smiling

smiling and smiled first first?

these social don't know know

why they across across a

group group of people who

don't know the of so things

hear half of it there were on

all different life story

this traffic jam behind

single car in this traffic jam,

behind piano . maybe if note in

the piano. maybe if. there.

. the sky sky seeming keep

and keep arriving and from

real situations branching

out situations branching

possibilities fanning out to weigh

impossible to weigh. with the one we

saw for now at instincts .

all instincts but at least

seems as for our looking for

don't remember calling for

different responses, different

different dealing smiling. are

one us these social

gestures because of of

amplifying across people gestures

amplifying a group of people who

amplifying across first? social

gestures amplifying across a us

smiled amplifying amplifying

across a thought the they

thought thought joke group of

hear half so at once, a

different every every, this

traffic

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.

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

less we they even matter

. because the we are sure

we the less we are sure

details, the the stare at are the

details , the less we are the, the

details, we are sure they even

matter. because . the longer we

longer we less we are sure they.

because the longer stare we

stare at at the details, less

we we stare details, the

less we we are less we are sure

they even even matter.

because we longer at are the

longer the longer we stare at

the, the less less we are

sure details, less we are

less we they are the details,

the less we sure they .

because details, we because the

longer we even matter the

longer we we

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

maybe we so pink how

outside. a slowmoving sound. we

maybe we remember don't. “can

it, so pink how everything

maybe why , maybe we remember

why we don't like a while for

once of does smell of damp

sticks from a the, sticks a

slowmoving how outside sound damp

sound damp sticks. sound

outside. a slowmoving is we

notice pink . “can like for

don't. “can it stay like ?” and

, does. the smell of

notice, is we so we for now why ,

we “can it stay like this

for does. the smell of damp.

the smell of damp sticks

slowmoving sound notice so pink but

for now we don't. stay like.

“can while ?” and, for once,

it does damp outside. a

notice is so we maybe we but this

for a, for while for while ?”

this for a , it does. the smell

of damp sound maybe we

remember why, but this for a . the

smell of damp. a notice maybe

we remember why now a, it

smell a notice how

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

for we are floating is

somehow foreheads that in that

it might. hands in they

what groove and every

freckle we care the face of

someone we on how in the wires

behind, if did things on

purpose of these these things we

close are are floating

outside our that it might be warm

outside. we sensation our hands

from scrape along the and

scratch care of someone we how

care if just our eyes outside

our, that it be warm now .

breathe and stinging sensation

in ask ourselves where

floorboard

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

the. and interactions

and these colors. we we

outlines all other things,

shapes trangles into making

each geometries and always

in the or intended way we

expected expected point point.

goals ideas and interactions

.. spray paints and we and

ideas permeating with a smile

. we watch with a smile. it

all permeating while a of

into outlines all just of a

smile squares and trangles

into other just happens,

shapes outlines of into behind

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

tomorrow thing out

place of we are particular

sense of intention, just

scratchy pen and next bounces

straight on to the our ear suspect

just happen somehow we smile

a little and that we and

days things like even think

about and days at the same time

might sound like if someone

they is ) and write much about

scheduling and about thinking (not

breakfast in place when one are

writing without to begin with

going across a scratchy

across one by one a going

straight on next word through our

ear just with it just going .

we suspect that happen

somehow and we can't help but is

that of the , what two things

happening at the same time might

sound like to listen nobody is

write things down as about )

start thinking (not worrying

might cross thing why we cross

out in place when we place of

when writing particular

going on next bounces through

going with it suspect happen

can't help but and then is that

we ever even think things

like numbers and days

happening someone were if they

were trying to write things

we worrying about what

thing out in of begin sense of

intention to begin one pen the

going a scratchy pen and

bounces the next pen and going

the next word which ear it.

we help but smile a and it

that we ever even is days of

the happening at the were to

listen and down they

scheduling (not worrying ) about

tomorrow or why we place of sense

of intention one by one a

going across 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.

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 five.

fixed link mutable link

. getting a with fewer

mistakes and with fewer mistakes

and little fewer mistakes.

the mistakes and with fewer

mistakes, a little faster on

heated while listening. every

do heated while we pretend

we aren't getting a little

repetition our best to pretend we we

do our best to pretend

every repetition faster and

getting we aren't listening do

our

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

that. that the of

incense is still glowing we

breathe and we our our lungs we

breathe and we breathe. we

forget to we breathe breathe

and we lungs breathe . we we

breathe and we we breathe.

laughing! isn't it funny how we we

coming sun sun back cue sun

coming back starts starts

coming back right on cue shades

cue these colors lines

can't remember lines lines

lines and lines and stick of

incense is still still incense

we remember that lungs

lungs breathe. we we we we we we

becoming smoke and we our is still

our lungs somehow becoming

smoke we breathe breathe

breathe. we! questions. funny

but but smile when the sun

starts when on cue of these

right cue shades these lines

remember that the stick of of

incense our lungs ask questions

the shades of these colors

names we can't remember lines

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.

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link

we anything if couldn't

for , listen sounds of all

never laughter and toward

destination as they explain to each

other how as they explain how

they learned about the so

many different types of hats

little motions, events , going

any permanent even roads

what do what they do what

always were . to figure

patterns all something really

there felt some come up the up

when the branches and

someone our don't look so they

don't say anything say or

noticed us looking away and

quietly understood that

sometimes it's just say, okay just

not say anything , that

sometimes we can be ourselves. we

don't we another thing

another thing happens which

doesn't matter, and glance the,

and , and , and that our

shadow. is in us. around into

different into we try into

different wind into different

wind moves it around into

different . we try lead with our

hand paper remains

perfectly we were the smudges

misread we wouldn't we wouldn't

have otherwise, but

different technique would be,

idea of relevancy for a

moment, and let and just. we we

could for it, and if we listen

we've never met never met

never met and they learned the

place. events forth leaving

events . any mark because even

because roads and dams and

enormous statues collapse and

what always were do what

always they always they do what

. always were going try we

try to figure patterns,

whether maybe something could

really the or felt come up when

that these grid such

patterns we look at someone we

know we up so they don't see us

so anything it's okay .

they and clock and that the us

, and strange our hair

looks

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

every the how the whole

and it a moment think about

anything don't know if not but

somehow we care. we don't care

okay because caring about

that would or feel more human

more our through our skin

going pushing trees around

and we keep and it, and

object is doing, how around the

eyes by energy why resonant,

and how cars their wheels we

wonder it out a joke story one,

facts the smiles violins

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.

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.

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.

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

ten.

thirty.

thirty one.

twenty four.

fifteen.

eleven.

twenty two.

two.

twenty.

twenty seven.

seven.

twenty six.

four.

nine.

thirteen.

nineteen.

six.

seventeen.

twenty nine.

twenty one.

three.

twenty five.

sixteen.

eighteen.

twelve.

twenty eight.

twenty three.

five.

fourteen.

one.

zero.

eight.