we accidentally imagine

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.

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

book

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

okay.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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

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

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

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.

sixteen.

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

cue

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

fourteen.

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

when

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

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 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

our

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.

fifteen.

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

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 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

thirty.

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

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

eighteen.

thirty one.

twenty one.

twenty two.

ten.

thirteen.

nine.

twenty four.

twenty.

twenty three.

three.

two.

eleven.

sixteen.

twenty seven.

twenty eight.

seven.

nineteen.

four.

five.

eight.

one.

fourteen.

twenty five.

twelve.

twenty nine.

zero.

fifteen.

six.

seventeen.

twenty six.

thirty.