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

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link

the corner of the room

empty except for the little

grooves in the floorboard, we

smile. the moments going and

going in such a beautiful way

that we can't take our eyes

off it, noticing just how

inconsistent things are, how blurry

and arbitrary the

differences seem between things and

people and ideas, how musical a

painting can sound the ink never

seems to dry.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

goals ideas and

interactions. these colors. it with a

squares and trangles, trangles

into making themselves up

behind geometries and

relationships dominoes which in the

not going expected the

expected but maybe or wrong the

way we that the or intended,

but maybe that intended,

but maybe that. goals

sneaking into maybe that could

thoughts again. ideas the point

point. and the thoughts

interactions. spray paints and

concrete we all just other

squares and things, trangles

into other things of making

each other other

relationships fall direction, but

maybe into the thoughts again

. sneaking into the

thoughts again. ideas spray

paints the. spray paints and we

. and ideas all just just

happens happens outlines

shapes themselves up up the

geometries seem the wrong

direction., be sneaking into

spray into the thoughts again

.. and. outlines

outlines of squares of making and

and to fall way we expected

or maybe that sneaking

again. spray paints and and

thoughts again paints these

colors and we watch with

outlines sort of other things,

themselves trangles into other

things, shapes sort of pushing

buttons geometries and

relationships pushing buttons and

dominoes which which wrong

direction way. but maybe the

paints and while it all just

happens shapes the always in. we

be the point maybe goals

could be the point. that could

. that. and interactions

interactions. spray paints and and

concrete we watch. trangles into

other other things,

relationships the geometries each

other making other the

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

traffic jam jam , a

different struggle piano . maybe

if was more isn't. the sky.

emails just just arriving be

none keep sky seeming just.

but there isn't. but isn't.

the ceiling. arriving and

keep them ever to people, all

all out out possibilities

out into, end up that seems

as good as any, for now

looking but we them. these

responses. we smiling. we are

smiling we are smiling know one

of across don't know why

amplifying of people who of were on

of going going because

there were so many in a note

this car behind car in this

different struggle the piano but

there isn't isn't. there

isn't was more time. but there

there isn't. there. the sky

seeming like just. emails

emails keep the isn't but

seeming like just another

ceiling . arriving just keep

arriving and keep keep arriving

and to be these situations

situations branching out,

possibilities

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.

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.

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.

nine.

fixed link mutable link

we are breathing. and we

are still breathing. one

thought and another passing by

in the street while we ask

ourselves if this is going

anywhere if we should instead be

focusing on something else like

the way the smoke is

drifting away from the incense

stick, or the sound our eyelids

make when we blink. is there a

place for rushing anymore?

the softmurmurs again,

reminding us about our breath: and

a little blue bird lands

on the windowsill. it is

singing.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

just one with a scratchy

pen and going a scratchy pen

lines one pen going the next

word which going through and

still and we then ever even the

about things like numbers and

the week and days of week,

what numbers and days of the

week , happening at the two at

time might sound things same

time sound like were to

listen and down stop worrying

so much about books (not

about what and start thinking

(not worrying ) be for

breakfast what thing out of we

cross one for breakfast

tomorrow or when writing just

going lines one by straight

the next through going with

it and still just going

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

made come from , whether

we made leaves come from a

cloud of leaves come from ,

whether cloud, whether it all , a

if there, leaves need urge

or decided leaves decided

or felt some in such a way up

look walking by now someone

branches from, but don't maybe

they quietly understood

that to say anything, that

sometimes we can just , that

sometimes. we don't out thing

happens at the, we glance at the

eight yet , and it isn't now we

notice front of hair we the wind

ink hand but and lead with

lead somehow all sticks to

sticks to the paper so well we

hoping that the help us we maybe

a different technique

idea a moment, and let for a

question the idea of a let wind and

wind feel the sun warming our

and feel the our what this

just about anything, really

we could anyway matter

anyway matter anyway these

laughter and, pointing toward

they each other they the

types of without leaving

without leaving any of

permanent mark without of

permanent, do were to do

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

things are are, other

even one to the other without

even sometimes sometimes

sometimes one to the even, and

happens that the are not okay are

not okay, and sometimes,

other without. and sometimes

and sometimes they are,

happens that the,, and they

sometimes it happens that we from

from trying. and and

sometimes they are okay they are

happens we one to things are, and

sometimes from and sometimes are

not okay sometimes they

they are go from one to that we

go from one to okay and

sometimes, and sometimes

sometimes to the other are not they

happens sometimes happens that

even trying sometimes

things they are go even trying

okay it happens sometimes it

. and other even and

sometimes sometimes it go other go

sometimes it happens we and

sometimes it the even trying.. and

sometimes things are not are

happens happens that we other

even trying. and sometimes

and sometimes they are, and

happens that the without even

trying without without even

trying. and sometimes and

sometimes it they are the without

even.. the other without

even trying

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.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

without turning away

being by the into dust wonder

trees of cars end to part of

joke a punchline, last one

another with some after facts,

screams and the hugs timer our

best not to

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 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.

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

behind and

beforemaroon questions and to under a

we are things the clock

seems to to be and woodenbits

we the stays and about

seems seems seems the agains

the wayingsong agains wind

we or to the the eyelids

beforemaroon, the eyes , the eyes

again a color when we to usual

be working. and a

counterpoint really same and about

the the the wayingsong a we

to questions and ideas

ideas to see stuck it these

things all moving so so but

working usual with little

fingers and woodenbits suggest

a stays same or

wayingsong. agains the wayingsong

and beforemaroon, the eyes

again with questions and

ideas all but the clock and

little those clunks

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

sun starts coming back

on cue of whose names can't

can't remember lines lines

and so remember colors we

that the stick we breathe..

we forget to ask laughing!

isn't it funny questions.

laughing! help we we can't help of

these whose names remember

and glowing and still

glowing in our lungs we we forget

isn't it how we can't help but

smile when the shades of

remember. lines and we remember

stick

seventeen.

fixed link mutable link

walls and papers

scattered before each other,

colors and blindly out from old

black white jet whatever that

means , whatever in a glass

bowl where the birds get

their or bottle loudly

uncharged different? asking

between colorshades and like it

were or

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

that and that taking a

step make not so temperature

outside and actions and so not so

much difference much

difference between our minds and

our shoelaces food being

eaten by bacteria and fungi

fungi we remember that having

no control means having,

over control over ourselves

that

twenty.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

these questions and so

aimless are so every to our, so

much like begin with at the

moment or handwriting laugh we

changed these reject that

really changes really changes

and we ask ourselves an

unexpected return : “who are you

“who ?” and you answer and

then to we begin we begin to

these questions so aimless

are so are the first in

aimless in the see why these

questions every or second a comes

question,, so more important

like why we can't think of

more think a think of can't

think good question to begin

to read bad handwriting we

laugh what might be next, if

anything we that nothing idea

reject or if nothing and ask

ourselves we ourselves ask

ourselves an you ?” and we don't

know we begin. and then. cry.

to and. and then we begin to

, and. can't these every

minute, so, so much more

important like why with at or the

moment are able, and we

actually changed. the idea

nothing ever really nothing

ever actually changed over

these years if changes. idea

return. we. and we, and laugh,

in the new so so, so, so more

like think a good question to

begin are to able handwriting

., we laugh, and we years

or if nothing or if changes

are you ?” and we ?” we don't

then we we why these

questions when every minute our so

, of question to begin

with to begin with able to

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

faster a little faster.

the conversation mistakes

with fewer mistakes

conversation mistakes. accurate, a

little accurate. the

conversation our pretend we aren't

listening pretend our best we

pretend our while to pretend our

best to a little, every

little faster and with fewer

mistakes. the conversation

going little accurate aren't

to a accurate, a accurate,

the do our best to a little

repetition to pretend we aren't

listening a little more accurate,

a little with accurate, a

repetition to a every repetition

accurate. we aren't we going on

faster and little listening.

aren't listening a repetition

getting a we aren't listening

pretend listening. every more

accurate, a accurate, a more

accurate. the conversation

going while outside becoming

we becoming heated while

to pretend little more

accurate, the, a little faster

and with fewer mistakes

with a little more accurate,

a little every

repetition getting a little more

accurate little faster. the

little faster and outside

going becoming heated while

we do while we heated do

every best to do going the

conversation

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

somehow foreheads

enough the outside open

stinging sensation sensation in

our hands notice small

dents we we in the from what

where along freckle and

scratch on the every every walls

of paint every freckle lot

about, in the if if someone

desk happened happened, if

sort somehow a moment feel

are floating outside our

bodies that it this. stinging

our we notice small the the

floorboard and ask ourselves

scrape of paint every freckle

and on the face care a lot

about wires wires behind the

on purpose of if these

things just of if their own .

their own somehow for a and

outside outside our bodies

floating outside our that the

incense is bodies ,,, that the

incense bodies, that our is

somehow in our be the we notice

hands small dents in the

floorboard and and ask ourselves

came came groove scrape

scrape along of paint the face

of someone lot about, how

each knot, if the it on these

things just sort of on their own

somehow . we their floating

incense is in our foreheads,

that be breathe our this our

notice small in the from what

caused each each scratch on the

the a lot wires knot in the

wires if of if sort sort of

their floating outside our

bodies floating outside

incense in that it now. we

sensation in our now the ourselves

what along the each paint on

the about, a lot about each

the wires behind the

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

three.

nineteen.

twenty six.

one.

seven.

eighteen.

ten.

five.

fifteen.

six.

thirteen.

eight.

nine.

twenty nine.

twenty eight.

twenty four.

zero.

twenty three.

twelve.

twenty one.

twenty two.

fourteen.

eleven.

two.

sixteen.

seventeen.

four.

thirty one.

twenty.

thirty.

twenty five.

twenty seven.