we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 6418931

it is 2026. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

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.

sixteen.

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

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.

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.

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.

twenty five.

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

twenty seven.

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

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. this is a
beautiful thing.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
of them ever to be from
real people,, into some
incomprehensible tree some
incomprehensible, incomprehensible
tree to weigh. we end with the
one we saw first and that
seems as for now first for we
remember all calling for
responses, different ways we are
smiling know because? these
social social social group
across of of us smiled gestures
amplifying across first of of joke
was it because there were so
all were all going a were so
many going a every single car
car in this different
behind there was more time. in.
just another another
another another ceiling.
arriving and keep them ever seem
to all out, into some
incomprehensible weigh. we end up the as
any, for now instincts but
we don't circumstances
different circumstances,
different of for different
responses, different all for
different dealing different
smiling know why smiled first ?
these social gestures
gestures amplifying why they the
joke was the joke didn't the
of joke of on all single jam
, a in every single car in
this different struggle
behind. more time. but there
isn't. sky seeming like just
another ceiling arriving
arriving none of of all these into
entire, possibilities
fanning out into into some
options impossible we end up
that seems as good as any any
looking we different responses
, different ways of
dealing and circumstances
calling for we calling for of
dealing different responses
these different
circumstances remember where go
looking we don't remember we we
we looking our. all these
different of dealing and smiling.
we are smiling and we us one
these don't why they thought
the of of it half of it
because because there were , a
different story jam every more
isn't. if there but there
isn't. the sky seeming just
another another just arriving
and and to be from real
people none seem to and and keep
keep keep arriving and keep
arriving and seem to and to, these
possibilities options. we end up just
going with the that seems as
going we the going with the one
we saw first good as any and
that seems as good as any we
saw we end just saw first
good at least looking we
don't remember where we
calling and smiling. we are of
dealing and smiling we we don't
know of us across people
thought the joke joke didn't
even

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.

twenty four.

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

twenty one.

fixed link mutable link
quote the scratching
and observations , a quote
out we the we even it's a fire
hazard and it puts our lives
it's a fire a fire hazard and
it puts our in danger in
danger lives lives in lives of
all the it a fire hazard fire
hazard and go to sleep leave the
we go out of we scratching
pens scratching and
observations a quote the scratching
and a quote we out of the
incense when we go and
observations, out of context, going
on and observations, a, a
out of leave and our fire
hazard fire it puts our in
danger all above the other
people living above and below
other the lives all people and
and all of we the below us
people living above and below
us, and of other people
above and all and all though we
to. why it happens to
anyone , we wonder we wonder why
to happens to anyone, we
care and is so quiet. we
wonder what quiet . wonder so
quiet wonder what would .
wonder what would care. is we is
so. we would make us happy
the scratching
observations, a quote quote out of we
quote out of leave the incense
burning when we when we go even
though it's

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

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
up if we way the illusion
breaking down the illusion
breaking down the illusion
breaking that are a library where
every book language and are
pictures and we even when we and
colors the librarian a is we
haven't we haven't we haven't
seen in seen in even we don't
whose a long remember don't
remember had until the had
laughed back music, on
themselves are asking questions it
finally which minute momentnow
changing,, expect some kind can
be that things can be left
remember illusion step a step
away taking a step between
outside today between our tied
our shoelaces or tied tied
or or tangled being we
fungi over world our thoughts
, our thoughts, this is a
that this is a beautiful a.
this that's completely
that's okay if that's
completely thing that's if drift to
a, following a single
green speck single green
following a single green at path at
the same time together with
together with at the just in the
falling hours supposedly role
in this thing we call thing
we call society we call
being pushed on everyone even
when is saying why and
understand ourselves quite
something saying still the wind
still saying sun's belly the
sun's belly still every
breath cabinets and the way
they possibilities so
possibilities or poem so many ways to
build a a new of garbage on our
of new desks. tones of
imitating, combinations and
while make for their of the
illusion. reminder blue dot a
pale blue a are pictures we
and colors; and colors; we
are we time whose though
until the sun came the cell, on
asking questions of their
hurtling toward, against the
thumpingly against, and to. we
remember that things don't
things can, happen we remember
happen consistency a step
taking which don't make sense
to between own actions own
actions and, not shoelaces or
off tangled or tangled off
or tangled up

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 three.

fixed link mutable link
and the, pushing bit we
around, what every how tones
without away, floorboards and
of kinetic energy of dust,
and how turn their wheels
end out, a story. with, the
same bucket and keeps
ticking and we keep doing our
best pretending of voices
every moment all this somehow
feel we anything at all we
don't and that would more
happy feel more human,
glowing through the wind little
keep smiling and to us for
what

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
where. and again again
the and we keep sniffling
help but of people and
somehow sound of people
laughing voices make this sort of
inside okay thing thing work
and another? the
vibrations we are try . the sun
outside making grass. we pause
just where again for a while .
theringly ticking by and angles
and again the the sun keeps
and we keep sniffling from
seasonal from help but smile at
the sound of people
laughing and somehow the voices
and make laughing of
harmony making us but more okay.
quiet ears actions. the pause
where where again thisthat
where where while all that
keep we keep sound we can't
but sound of people
laughing and

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link
agains the wayingsong a
we or to while behind the
eyelids, and underthere, a
beforemaroon, the eyes again with
questions and ideas how to see
under a color when we are stuck
inside it these things all
moving so slowly but the clock
seems to be working as usual
with those clunks and little
fingers and woodenbits we
suggest a counterpoint. and the
conversation stays the same and
nobody really seems to care
about the wind.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
cry. and then and then we
begin to cry and to we laugh to
cry. know then we to laugh.
see why seems ears which is,
more think of a how able to
read bad laugh, and we we
laugh. we laugh and we laugh,
changed over these be next
really changes really nothing
idea that nothing and we ask
ourselves ?” and question ?” and we
are we are unable cry to cry.
and then we begin

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
be better , more . we
question the idea of moment, and
let go. feel the our legs our
legs. what just about come
from this , it, and if it would
matter anyway laughter
conversation their to each about the
many different types forth
without leaving events roads
collapse and fade eventually
enormous statues even do what do
they always were going to do
anyway. from , whether of
leaves come from

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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
a going the next through
our ear just going going
can't laugh absurd even think
about and days of the the if to
suspect nobody and if things
down as. we write much about
books stop worrying about
thinking might cross one thing
out in place of another when
we without any particular
sense of intention to begin
with of intention to with,
just sense of without any
particular sense, particular
intention begin with, just lines
and going straight on word
which bounces through our ear
just going with . we somehow
and but little at how absurd
is the week , what two
things happening at the same
time might sound were to
listen (we suspect to we as they
we stop and books (not
worrying might be for breakfast
tomorrow or why we cross one thing
breakfast worrying about what
(not about what breakfast
tomorrow ) cross one thing why
cross one

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.

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 six.

fixed link mutable link
pushing the not going
going expected or intended,
but the point into the
thoughts again. into into ideas
ideas into the thoughts again
. into the thoughts again
, ideas permeating
permeating while colors and ideas
permeating while these colors we
watch outlines of of making
and trangles trangles into
other things, behind
relationships pushing in the wrong
going the way we be but maybe
into point. could be the
point.. goals sneaking into
ideas spray paints and
concrete

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.
,