we accidentally imagine

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

laugh absurd about two

to ) and if things down as.

stop about stop worrying so

much about listened . about

scheduling and books and start )

start thinking ) might be for

breakfast tomorrow or we cross out

another when in place why of

another out we any particular

sense of just going one by one

across intention to begin with

, just going begin with

just lines one with pen word

and still just going with we

things just we can't and then we

ever even and things days of

week, what things same, what

if someone were same time

like (we suspect nobody is )

down as. so much about

worrying ) what might breakfast

of another out

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

we begin laugh, and

laugh we why we see why like

every or a new question our to

begin with able to read to read

and what might be next if

anything actually ever idea that

nothing “who to we don't know we.

then can't laugh can't these

so aimless minute or

second a, why moment are able to

handwriting. we laugh we wonder

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

coming shades of these

colors lines remember so many

lines lines many lines lines

we glowing is we breathe

and in our glowing and still

glowing and smoke our to.

laughing! isn't it funny how we

laughing how the cue cue shades of

many lines. we remember

still glowing and somehow

smoke in our lungs smoke our

lungs we our our lungs smoke

our our lungs we breathe we

breathe and and we breathe. we

breathe lungs in lungs somehow

smoke in our glowing and

somehow lungs we..

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.

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.

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

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 four.

fixed link mutable link

trying trying. and

sometimes it it it happens that

that we go from one to, and

sometimes they are we go from one to

things and sometimes things

and sometimes things are

not okay, and happens that

and sometimes things and

and sometimes, and

sometimes, and sometimes happens

that we things are not okay we

things sometimes they are

other without even are not we

even trying. and they are and

sometimes we go are not sometimes

it happens go from one the

one the and other and are we

other trying. sometimes, and

sometimes they are, and sometimes

it happens other

sometimes sometimes things are

that we one to the and and

sometimes, and okay, and

sometimes we go from . and they

sometimes it it we go from one to

from even trying. not okay

are not okay, happens that

that we from from we go from

one to even trying. and

sometimes and are, and are from one

to . sometimes sometimes

okay sometimes it they are,

and that from even one to the

other sometimes they are we go

from the without even okay

sometimes they go from without and

sometimes sometimes, go one to to

the other go from one okay,

not and sometimes they not

not okay are, and sometimes

go go from one to the even

trying are not okay, and things

not and sometimes they, and

sometimes one to from other

without sometimes things are

sometimes sometimes they are

happens that we go from even

trying. and sometimes it and

even even trying. and and are

are and sometimes they are

and sometimes happens that

we go from one to the other

to the even not okay go from

one to without and

sometimes things happens that one

to okay,, and sometimes

they are, and sometimes it

happens from the without even

not we and sometimes it

happens are, and from even

trying not, and that we go from

even trying and and

sometimes sometimes, and it

happens are sometimes one not

okay and

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 five.

fixed link mutable link

becoming heated while

our outside mistakes on

outside becoming on outside

becoming on fewer and little

aren't to pretend listening.

every aren't listening do our

we do we more faster and

outside becoming on outside

becoming going on heated. with

fewer mistakes. the little

faster fewer mistakes more

accurate little faster and with

fewer accurate, a little

faster and the conversation

mistakes with faster and little

more accurate little

accurate, a little going

becoming on outside becoming our

best becoming heated fewer

mistakes. going best we. every a

we best to. little fewer

the conversation our best

to pretend best to pretend

we aren't listening.

every little with little

every to pretend we aren't

listening. every aren't

listening a little more mistakes.

going on heated best to on we do

our best outside while

mistakes. the conversation

going while becoming heated

best do we aren't listening

we repetition faster a and

the conversation going on

conversation going on heated outside

while becoming heated while

the conversation going on

conversation going with

conversation and with fewer the on

outside fewer accurate, little

more mistakes. the

conversation faster a little more we .

getting. a little faster and a

conversation going on we going on

outside

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 three.

fixed link mutable link

know themselves

somehow we okay would more happy

or like the is skin keeps

going pushing trees, and keep

and an for what it is what is

doing , of around in the eyes

absorbed into some pushes bits of

dust, how quickly. end out of

a punchline, last. these

one, one after and facts

bucket the, the fists paints

violins and best pretending to

around themselves we hear help

sun is landing on this and is

glowing and we can somehow feel

on our moment we. we don't

themselves or not we don't and have

or feel sun is laughing

blood wind keeps a an see

everything

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

we with our somehow we or

two something of maybe

different technique or execution

would be better, more.

relevancy for, let it go and from

anything we us for it , and matter

anyway the all these

conversation , pointing toward to

their as they explain to how

they how other the place of

hats. all . all these little

motions little motions, events

going all going without

leaving any leaving collapse

and collapse do what they

what always they do

eventually were do do figure to

figure out patterns in a from

all up or could really be

there maybe really be , that

maybe or felt some or urge to

that these in way patterns

come

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

close their own a moment

our our in our foreheads,

somehow, outside outside might

be warm. we now we notice

ask ourselves they groove

from scrape caused each of

paint every of about how, if of

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

. ideas concrete, with

permeating while we watch with a

smile. trangles into other

behind each each of squares

other of squares and trangles

into other each other

themselves other and

relationships pushing in. not going

the or intended, point.

that could be the point..

goals sneaking and these

smile. it all just while smile

smile. it trangles into other

things, shapes into into other

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.

ten.

fixed link mutable link

we ask ourselves some

question we can't hear, muffled

because our heads are

underwater, this cold sensation

pressing on our foreheads while

we feel our socks becoming

heavy, cottonfibers grabbing

skin and dragging behind our

feet, cold passing between

our toes. maroon painted

walls and a thick sweater,

crinkling plastic bag full of

snacks. we notice it is becoming

later every moment, and that

as soon as we count one

number there is another in

front of that, always room for

another one or zero or eighty

seven or pencilcase

dirtyshoe, these power outlets

rusting over even though we

can't see where the water

could have come from fading in

the carpet telling which

way people walk most

without asking why they walk it

so often when it seems

there are so, so many other

ways to go and that this way

isn't even the easiest or most

efficient or beautiful or

surprising: they are taking the path

because it is the path they take,

and we can't help but

laughalittle at how beautiful that is

not to say that one is better

than another or that anyone

is wrong for going the way

they do or that we think we are

better than going that

particular way to the couch, but

that we know in the end we are

going to go that way too and

that's just fine. it's just as

good an option as any so we

don't see a reason why not it's

beautiful enough and it's

surprising enough and that itself

may be the most beautiful

and surprising thing of all

at the moment.

twenty.

fixed link mutable link

smell of from outside. a

slowmoving how don't. “can while

“can it for it does. outside.

sound. sticks a slowmoving

sound. we notice how , but for a

while ?” and, for once. the

smell, like ?” once,. the

sticks from outside. a

slowmoving sound. we it stay like

this for a stay like this for.

the damp. sticks. we is

everything. is so we how everything

why , is so maybe but. this

for once, damp sticks

slowmoving notice how everything

pink for now we this now “can

it for a while ?” once, it

does for once does . the damp

sticks from outside. pink we

notice how everything is now

why, but we remember

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

with with questions and

ideas to see under a to under a

color color it are stuck

inside it these things things

all slowly but but to the

clock slowly the clock seems

to fingers a counterpoint

counterpoint the the conversation

stays the same stays the to

wind . a beforemaroon,, the

eyes again with eyes with

ideas how to ideas how

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

, against the doors the

situations some kind. of might

situations where things to things

we remember that things

can things sense make sense

left just as they happen is

another sort of don't allowing

things which don't make sense

our between our own

difference between outside the

temperature today, not so today, not

so much difference

between untied, on a bacteria

and ourselves over

ourselves actions, and that this a

beautiful beautiful thing. this

is a. and that's

completely thing and, pollen

following a ground strange same,

and same time going

somewhere with somewhere same a

goal and just and falling

goal and just and with a goal

the around job playing some

playing role in thing role in

playing some we values being

pushed on everyone even when is

saying or we ourselves are we

quite saying saying are why

saying or why are saying it the

the breath every about,

many ways, so many ways to

build to a to build up our roll

up chord and roll up our

sleeves when it new in a new in the

sky on our., probabilistic

and toes our ears while our

meaning while

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 two.

fixed link mutable link

time the vibrations

more quiet every time we

vibrations vibrations the of aware

of our actions but try not

to making grass and just.,

breathe for a keeps making that

sound and sound and we

sniffling from help the the but

help don't recognize don't

we don't and somehow sound

the these inside our chests

and inside our chests and us

making us but . which okay which

or combination making one

thing work another not not to

hear inside the to hear

inside the are aware kind of

sound against the grass grass

. just we,, the while all

these angles crackling a

while sound the and keep

sniffling . a bird call bird call

seasonal from sound recognize

but smile at laughing and

sort voices make somehow

sound of people hear hear all

and okay.. more okay the

vibrations more sounds. to hear

inside the. we are sounds

outside making of grass.

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

all these different

circumstances calling for different

responses, different ways of

dealing and smiling. we are

smiling and we don't know why

because one of us smiled first?

these social gestures

amplifying across a group of people

who don't know why they

thought the joke was funny when

they didn't even hear half of

it because there were so

many things going on all at

once, a different life story

in every single car in this

traffic jam, a different

struggle behind every note in the

piano. maybe if there was more

time. but there isn't. the sky

seeming like just another

ceiling. emails just keep

arriving and keep arriving and

none of them ever seem to be

from real people, all these

situations branching out into

entire stories,

possibilities fanning out into some

incomprehensible tree, options after

options impossible to weigh. we

end up just going with the

one we saw first and that

seems as good as any, for now at

least we go looking for our

instincts but we don't remember

where we left them.

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty nine.

thirty.

twelve.

sixteen.

thirteen.

five.

seven.

eighteen.

two.

three.

twenty four.

eleven.

twenty five.

seventeen.

twenty three.

twenty eight.

twenty seven.

twenty six.

one.

ten.

twenty.

six.

fourteen.

nineteen.

eight.

thirty one.

zero.

twenty two.

twenty one.

fifteen.

four.

nine.