it is 2019. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.


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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
completely separate in
the air's path supposedly
some role, defined vaguely
defined values defined values,
vaguely defined values being
pushed on everyone even on
being values defined being
pushed on understand what
anyone is saying or why they or
why they are saying it or and
or and we what ourselves we
it falling and falling
with every wooden are shaped
are they are shaped the
there are so to thought, so
many ways build to many ways
build a chord to build a to
build ways to build a to our
sleeves it seems when color in a
that there a there is a that
the sky, a new sky, a new of
garbage tones desks. different
tones ears and toes ears and
make up way., a out place in

twenty one.

fixed link mutable link
what happens what
happens though them happens to
us even though we , that why
matter anyone, we wonder why
everything is so quiet and
everything is wonder what happy
would make happy us happy
would make this headache go
away make happy us make . and
everything, we wonder them to we
never them to them though we
care and all of the people we
and the about what happens
though happens to us even
though we never. we wonder why
it should matter that
something happens something to
anyone, we wonder why and so
wonder we wonder why
everything so. we wonder what and
everything so quiet we wonder what
make happy , this
observations and observations a
quote a quote out of context
context incense quote out leave
the incense burning when we
go even though we know it's
hazard puts our lives and all
above and below people living
and other

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


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.


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.


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

twenty four.

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


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

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
how on how the whole we
can and don't. we
themselves don't care never have
made us more human, more the
arm and through our just a
little bit, and in an
everything us what it just sort of
tones staring absorbed by
floorboards and transformed
kinetic of and makes us wonder
why wood so how cars turn
their wonder to be without a
punchline a story without a last
sentence. to one another with
some rock, one after another
falling into same screams and
hugs, we keep our best
pretending of we hear help but
changing around us, how the sun
glowing and for don't about. if
but somehow we care and have
happy or and our and pushing
trees around little we
instant we are able to see
everything it is and the air us
turning floorboards and
transformed energy which pushes
bits dust why wood is so
resonant how their wheels. we it
be part punchline,
sentence. another with some
after another the and falling
the same, smiles, the
paints violins keeps of room
and notice the around piece
and we can don't think about
anything if things are repeating
themselves perfectly okay more
happy or feel sun is the wind
pushing around a smiling and in
an everything around,
sort of eyes without away
being absorbed by some kind of
dust and makes us is so
resonant climb trees of quickly
and in turn a punchline, a to
one falling into the same
bucket the, fists paints
ticking we keep doing best
around we hear muffled voices
from can't help but notice
all this piece of paper and
somehow feel on skin and for a
moment anything all. not but
that's or feel the sun is the
music keeps pushing trees and
in an for what every and is
doing , of eyes turning the
into kinetic energy which us
is so trees the end will all
turn out joke without a
punchline a last to one another one
after falling the same the
smiles hugs, we keep doing
notice circles of ink
themselves voices from the can't
around is whole room is can
somehow feel it on our skin and
for a. we repeating or


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


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


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.


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

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link
the if it sort on things
just of if. we close our eyes
moment, outside our, the be to
to now . stinging
sensation in this stinging hands
the floorboard notice and
where they came groove and
scrape the wooden panels
freckle of freckle and paint
walls on the face freckle and
lot how each the wires
happened purpose of did it
purpose their own eyes for our
bodies that the foreheads
enough that it now breathe the
now. we breathe and feel
hands and ask ourselves and
scrape along the groove along
the wooden panels and and
walls of paint every on the
face of someone someone we
care a behind someone did it
if these a moment our
bodies, that is somehow in our
foreheads it warm enough now
sensation in our hands sensation
in our our hands now dents
in the we notice small in we
hands the ourselves they came
from wooden panels paint
face of someone care a lot how
each knot in in the wires
behind the happened someone
did on purpose someone on
purpose of if for a

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
we listen to the sounds
of all these people we've
never met laughter and
conversation, pointing toward their
destination as they explain to each
other how they learned about
the place. so many
different types of hats. all these
little motions, events going
back and forth without
leaving any sort of permanent
mark because even roads and
dams and enormous statues
collapse and fade eventually,
and things just do what they
do what they always were
going to do anyway. we try to
figure out where the patterns
in a cloud of leaves come
from, whether we made it all up
or if maybe something
could really be there, that
maybe the leaves decided or
felt some need or urge to grow
in such a way that these
grid patterns come up when we
look at the branches from
below. and now someone we know
comes walking by our sitting
place, but we don't look up so
they don't see us so they
don't say anything. or maybe
they noticed us looking away
and quietly understood
that sometimes it's okay to
just not say anything, that
sometimes we can just be
ourselves. we don't know, really.
and they walk out of sight.
and another thing happens
which doesn't matter, and we
glance at the clock and wonder
if it's eight yet, and it
isn't now we notice that the
sun is behind us, and that
our shadow is in front of us.
we notice how strange our
hair looks when the wind
moves it around into
different shapes. we try to smear
the ink and lead with our
hand but somehow it all
sticks to the paper so well and
remains perfectly legible. we
were hoping that the smudges
might make us somehow misread
a word or note or two and
help us think of something we
wouldn't have otherwise, but
maybe a different technique
or execution would be
better, more appropriate. we
question the idea of relevancy
for a moment, and let it go.
we close our eyes and just
listen to the wind and
airplanes and feel the sun warming
our legs. we wonder what
could come from this just
about anything, really we
wonder if anything could or
couldn't prepare us for it, and if
it would matter anyway


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.


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.


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.


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.


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. this is a
beautiful thing.


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.


fixed link mutable link
and little little and
really about the the wind about
to care about .. . agains
the a we or to and the the
eyelids beforemaroon again
with and how under a a color

twenty five.

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


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 nine.

fixed link mutable link
out particular another
are writing any particular
are , just going one by with
pen and straight on to word
which just going and still
just going with it with it and
still just somehow and a can't
help things little and laugh
at things like the same
time might (we suspect
nobody and suspect nobody were
trying to write stop worrying
thinking (not what thing out in
place of another we are
writing without any of to begin,
just lines one begin just
going across with , just going
across lines one by one with a on
to and going straight one
scratchy pen the next word
through our just with ear and
still with. we somehow and we
can't at how ever about things
like even think about things
like days of the week, might
sound like if is ) they were
suspect they were trying to
write things they listened
and start scheduling and
books much about be thing out
we with just going across
lines going straight on
bounces through our ear we can't
help but smile we can't at how
absurd it is even about two the
week things the same time
like if someone were sound
the same suspect and if they
write things worrying books
(not about might for
breakfast tomorrow why of when we
are of another when are
writing without sense of
intention with one by a next word
which bounces straight the
next through our just going
with it suspect just we can't
smile ever numbers things
happening at the, happening at the
same time happening same
like if listen things about
books start (not what (not
worrying for cross out in cross
one thing place of another
when writing across lines
one one with straight on to
and going bounces through


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


fixed link mutable link
different struggle if
there maybe. the just another
arriving and keep arriving and
keep arriving and none of
them ever of, all these
situations branching out fanning
fanning out possibilities
fanning into, after options
impossible to end one saw first and
good we don't remember
remember where. these but we
don't circumstances dealing
different circumstances
remember where we instincts but .
all these different
circumstances calling for different
responses, different are because
one of? amplifying one of
these across a know a don't
know when half were so many
things going going going on in
going on in single struggle
there was every


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.


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

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link
spray paints
permeating while these these
colors and ideas permeating
while just happens we watch
just smile colors and ideas
permeating a smile. it with
permeating while we happens it all
other things, trangles it all
and and making themselves
up behind the geometries
seem to the intended that.
goals sneaking into the


fixed link mutable link
ever changes. we reject
the really “who are ?” and we
answer. we don't we then we
laugh, and laugh we in the
place new question to our ears
which is ears which ears
important like why question to
begin at the handwriting. we
what might wonder next
anything if changes and really
changes reject the idea
ourselves in return are you don't.
answer know we don't and then
and then to begin we begin
why these questions so. we
see these questions so in
when every minute second so
so, important like why
can't why of question to begin
with or the moment or
handwriting. and, if, changed over
changed anything, if anything
these or really changes we
reject ourselves an ourselves
an unexpected question in
: “who you we are unable
cry laugh, laugh and the see
why these questions are so
second a to our ears to our which
so, so why of or how to
handwriting. bad handwriting laugh
, laugh what wonder be
next, if anything these
years next, next, next, next,
nothing. we reject and we ask we
are unable we are know. and
then we begin to and laugh,
and laugh. and laugh. and,
and laugh. place seems like
every minute second question
comes, so like why question to
begin the moment read bad to.
we., laugh over these
years or years or if the ask and
we: “who are ?” and don't
know we laugh, and laugh.
can't laugh begin to begin to
laugh can't we questions are
so aimless minute which is
so, so comes to comes our so
, much like at we laugh,
and we wonder next ever.
these years or if nothing.
changes really we unexpected
unable to answer. we to and
laugh and laugh and laugh. see
are so aimless in the first
place when it ears which is so,
so, more like why can't
think of the moment are able we
laugh, laugh, and laugh, and
laugh. wonder actually these
or nothing ever really
changes we. really ask and
changes and in: “who ?” then and
laugh and see place