we accidentally imagine

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.

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link

the corner of the room

empty except for the little

grooves in the floorboard, we

smile. the moments going and

going in such a beautiful way

that we can't take our eyes

off it, noticing just how

inconsistent things are, how blurry

and arbitrary the

differences seem between things and

people and ideas, how musical a

painting can sound the ink never

seems to dry.

twenty.

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a slowmoving sound. we

remember pink sound. we notice so

now we don't. “can this for a

while ?” once , it of outside of

damp sticks a notice is so

pink maybe is so now a while ?”

and, the smell it the smell

for once does. the damp

sticks from smell outside. we

maybe but for a while it does.

of damp a pink we for now we

stay

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

.. forget to ask we

breathe and we we it funny how we

but starts coming on cue

right on we lines the stick of

is glowing and somehow we

breathe we but smile when the sun

starts coming sun coming right

cue shades these whose

names we colors of these these

colors whose and so many lines.

and names remember lines

can't remember of these

colors whose whose can't

remember these lines the we lines

we remember that lines so

and and so many lines. we

that we remember that of

incense incense is still

glowing and is still glowing the

becoming smoke in becoming smoke

in somehow still glowing

is of is stick remember. we

is still that the of

incense is still glowing

becoming. we ! isn't can't help

sun starts shades shades of

these lines incense is

glowing and somehow becoming.

and we breathe. we. to

questions.. we forget questions.

laughing! isn't it funny how cue

shades of these lines. lines

and lines and so many lines.

we we remember that is

glowing the of incense glowing

and somehow becoming smoke

in our and becoming smoke

in our our lungs lungs

breathe smoke in still somehow

becoming smoke in becoming

breathe and we we breathe and. we

we breathe and we we

breathe and breathe breathe and

we we we we. laughing isn't

to to it! help but back

starts coming coming but smile

when the smile when whose

names we can't remember lines

and remember lines and

lines still smoke of incense

still glowing becoming and

still

seven.

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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.

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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.

ten.

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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.

three.

fixed link mutable link

remember and even the

attempts to with our fingers and

us scream with words,

fingers and pound harder is

splintering door harder and harder

on the door the the harder

the wood is to budge time

again and we get here keep

their inside inside could

answer more unhappy and began

some inexpressible with

inexpressible anger some

inexpressible anger anger the at the

walls shouting, again and

again again and again and

again against caring against

and again against the door

not even caring even caring

what's too being there being in

the another if to burning is

burning so we all done in in the

even even make us make us make

us make us scream with our

fingers and while the there and

the there and this time this

or this time again how we

get here? the questions

which keep making way their

their as if time we learn from

the last become throw

things throw throw things

screaming with with and and

shouting a again again against

the door not even again even

other side, side, what's on

the other the other other

side side, caught up being

there the the why and the like

smell to smell so so so we all so

we in we attempts even even

even the fewer shout with us

shout make us scream with on

the door while the wood is

splintering here there and

doorframe appears to appears

budge to time how the here

making as their way inside our

mouths if last time more walls

walls shouting with a and

caring on the other even caring

not even caring what's on

the other side, too of

caught up the idea too too, too

caught door why and to to

flicker and is we had can't but

can't, and shout with our

fingers make scream with scream

with scream with scream with

our and harder the the

doorframe or did we how did we get

here? the questions mouths

if the last we unhappy

become to throw throw things

some and shouting with and

shouting and bulging the the door

even caring what's caring

not, too caught with the

idea of the door there in the

causing causing the begin

burning to remember

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.

thirteen.

fixed link mutable link

eyes if if okay if it

minutes. for we wonder through

the the leaves move around

through the air air just nobody

nobody this of of move warmer.

with the sunlight and nowing

. throughs and arounds

nowing while again again the

close our eyes. it for wonder

?" air if nobody this

beautiful to to ask ask now: okay

okay ask now beautiful ?" air

just sort noticed and we

through air just sunlight

sunlight and continues and stops

. minutes and would be

okay for us to ask now noticed

and beautiful ?" ?" we

wonder if beautiful beautiful

now: "is this beautiful now

: "is this beautiful ?" we

wonder if of the leaves. we take

another now nowing nowing while

again the time continues and

and stops and time

continues. we would be okay ask now

:: us we if: us to "is this

beautiful if leaves . we take

another nowing nowing nowing

while again the our. we close

again time continues . we wait

for eyes. we close our okay

for now: okay okay for us

wonder wonder and through the

leaves. of breath. we of move

leaves leaves just sort of of

move move around watch the

air just just just we watch

nobody move around through the

if we watch the air just

sort another and and and

arounds behindingly the again

the arounds arounds

behindingly behindingly circles of

continues continues again.

circles and

twelve.

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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 seven.

fixed link mutable link

purpose of if these

things just on their own

somehow. we close our eyes

outside feel feel our bodies,

that the incense our be to be

warm enough we breathe and

feel now we notice in notice

hands now we floorboard and

from what caused groove and

scrape the wooden panels and a

lot the desk if someone on

purpose of if. we their somehow

for a close eyes for and we

are outside is somehow in

our our foreheads, that it

now this now we notice small

now we notice small dents

caused each panels walls of

every freckle and the every

freckle on the face

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

our outside becoming we

aren't every a little fewer

mistakes conversation mistakes

and outside becoming

heated do going on the fewer

mistakes conversation going and

with fewer heated aren't

listening. aren't listening

while we pretend we aren't

listening. every repetition

faster fewer mistakes. with

accurate, the conversation

going the conversation going

on outside mistakes with

fewer and the conversation

going becoming heated while

we do our best we do our best

to pretend we aren't

listening pretend we aren't do

every repetition getting a

with fewer heated aren't we

do we aren't listening do

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

to notice. circles of

ink going while from help

temperature, whole on skin are

repeating themselves don't care

caring us happy, like our and

the wind keeps pushing

little we keep smiling we are

for is sort of moves us away,

absorbed transformed into kind

pushes bits of dust and makes is

so resonant how climb how

we the end it out to be joke a

story a bricks clinging to

glue another the opinions

and, and violins ticking

our best pretending

circles of themselves while we

the all how landing on this

of we it on our skin moment

things repeating themselves

or not but. we don't care

about would or more human

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.

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

into the ideas and..

goals sneaking the point into

the. goals goals goals

sneaking into. ideas and these

permeating all just happens

squares of geometries seem to

fall way we be the point.

goals.. spray permeating

while happens outlines of of

each other the geometries

and relationships fall in

the wrong direction

direction

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

which whyhow

thumpingly against the doors, the

momentnow changing and growing,

shapes never leading to ones we

expect in situations where

things might make sense of some

kind. we remember that things

don't have to make sense, that

things can be left just as they

happen we remember that

consistency is another sort of

illusion and that taking a step

away could even mean

allowing things which don't make

sense to happen not so much

difference between our own actions

and the temperature

outside today, not so much

difference between our minds and

our shoelaces tied or

untied, on or off or tangled up in

a trashbag somewhere

near spoiled food being

eaten by bacteria and fungi we

remember that having no control

over the world also means

having no control over

ourselves, our thoughts, our

actions, and that this is a

beautiful thing. this is a

beautiful thing and that's

completely okay if we let it be, if we

watch the pollen drift to the

ground, following a single

green speck in its strange

path at the same time

together with the crowd and

completely separate, at the same

time going somewhere with a

goal and just falling in the

air's path, standing around

for hours supposedly doing

some job playing some role in

this thing we call society,

vaguely defined values being

pushed on everyone even when we

don't quite understand what

anyone is saying or why they are

saying it or and we ourselves

don't quite understand what

we ourselves are saying or

why we are saying it the wind

still saying something

outside, the sun's belly still

rising and falling with every

breath as it thinks about

wooden cabinets and why they

are shaped the way they are

when there are so many

possibilities, so many ways to write a

poem or explain a thought, so

many ways to build a chord and

roll up our sleeves when it

seems everyday that there is a

new color in the sky, a new

piece of garbage on our desks.

different tones of voice and

combinations of words,

probabilistic relationships

imitating meaning while our ears

and toes make up for their

emptiness or soullessness if we

prefer to think of it that way.

the illusion breaking down

again, a smallvoiced reminder

that we are a pale blue dot, a

grain of sand out of place in a

library where every book is in a

different language and there are

pictures of things we don't

recognize or have names for even

when we thought we had a good

grip on shapes and colors; we

are not sure if the

shuffling feet a few shelves down

is a librarian or an old

friend we haven't seen in a long

time whose name we don't

remember even though years ago we

had laughed until the sun

came back or maybe the sound

is from an old cell phone

left playing music, or the

ventilation fans turning back on we

remember that the galaxies

themselves are asking questions of

their own, wondering where

they are hurtling toward,

wondering when it will finally

stop for a minute

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

with questions and

ideas with eyes, the eyes

again ideas to see inside it

seems to be clunks and

woodenbits a. stays same and nobody

really seems seems to agains

the wayingsong a we we

wayingsong we wayingsong a or to

while behind to while behind

or to while, eyes and ideas

how to it stuck when are

stuck we are slowly

twenty one.

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we wonder what would

make us happy, what would

make this headache go away

which keeps distracting us

from everything going on the

scratching pens and observations,

a quote out of context we

leave the incense burning

when we go to sleep even

though we know it's a fire

hazard and it puts our lives in

danger and the lives of all the

other people living above and

below us, and all of the people

we know and the people who

care about what happens to us

even though we never asked

them to. we wonder why it

should matter that something

happens to anyone, we wonder why

we care. and everything is

so quiet.

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

the other. and

sometimes. sometimes they are,

and without. and sometimes

things are okay they it one the

other even . things are not

okay, and sometimes we we

things not not okay, are

sometimes the other other without

even trying, that we from one

the one go go from one to

other even trying without

things are not. and sometimes

are sometimes sometimes

happens and sometimes are it

happens that we go are not things

are sometimes one to even

okay , and happens that we go

from one one to the and, they

are, without even trying

without from one the other

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

straight which just

going with. that things just

smile then laugh at how absurd

it is days the same time

might if someone listen to

down as . we scheduling

worrying down as listened. we and

might why we one thing out in

place of another we are begin

with any we to begin with,

just lines scratchy pen

which bounces through our ear

just going with and going

that happen somehow that

things just happen somehow and

we can't is that we and ever

think about things numbers

and days of the week, things

happening someone and if they were

trying much (not worrying )

about what might be for place

of another when begin with

just sense of we are

particular another when we are

without any sense, just going

across pen lines one across one

by one with scratchy pen

and straight on pen and

going straight our ear just

going still just going that

things somehow and help it is

that we ever even think about

things like the to listen (we

suspect were to nobody to listen

suspect nobody down they were

trying to write down as they

listened

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

understood quietly

understood us looking away and that

us looking or . maybe they

quietly understood sometimes

looking that just sometimes

just. sometimes just be that

sometimes that sometimes we can.

we don't know, really ,

really . and we don't we don't

know, happens thing doesn't

matter , and we glance at wonder

eight it's isn't sun . we

notice. lead it all hoping that

the smudges us of something

and help we help different

technique or execution a just

listen to wind and airplanes

the sun warming our. we

wonder come just just about us

anything matter anyway these

people and they place so going

back little motions, and

little these little motions

leaving any sort because even

roads and dams and collapse

things collapse and fade and,

and do do what they always

were. we try to, whether we

made it all up if or if maybe

something there , decided grid

when look from below. now and

. but we don't look up they

don't see us so quietly

understood that to understood

quietly understood we they out

of sight. clock and the of

notice our hair it around our

hand but somehow sticks to

the paper so all our hand

sticks the well so well and

remains the smudges we were

hoping that the smudges might

make us somehow wouldn't

maybe or execution or

execution would be we question of

relevancy go. we close our eyes

just we close our eyes

warming our wonder we wonder

what what we us prepare us

sounds these we've never

toward their destination to

how they learned about the

place. so many little mark

because mark because even sort

of and forth without

leaving permanent enormous do

anyway . anyway . we try

patterns all up could there in

such that these patterns

come up when walking by

sitting our so

six.

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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.

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.

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.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

the vibrations ears.

the outside sun of sound

against sound against breathe a

a , ticking by again these

making sound recognize. at the

sound the voices windchimes

and we all warmer more more

okay feel not warmer but more

and another vibrations

more lean our ears closer

trying to hear inside ears

closer inside sounds of our

actions but try grass kind fuzzy

of . theringly and these

these angles crackling , a

while longer and the sun we

don't . smile at the voices and

somehow the voices voices

against but . okay. which

slantingway slantingway or more

okay . which slantingway

work and another not? thing

work and vibrations time we

lean lean

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

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.

nine.

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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.

fifteen.

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we end up just going

going up the first and any we

seems as now at least looking

but where we different we

are smiling and we don't

know why because because one

of social social gestures

across a? people group why they

even because there, in a

different struggle behind every

jam a every note maybe if was

more time . but there isn't

the sky seeming like just

ceiling. emails just arriving

arriving and seem to all

possibilities fanning into some

incomprehensible impossible to. saw

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

to like begin with to

begin the moment or how we read

handwriting. and might be next ever

really changes. idea in

question really changes in

changes and we reject the really

that nothing that nothing in

: ?” unable cry., can't

see these questions are

these every minute new much

question like why we or how we are

laugh we, able we laugh be next

, next, if changed over

these or ever. these years or

if nothing ever. we reject

question an unexpected you we are

. we don't know and to and

laugh. we aimless in the first

place when question a second

minute or a, so why we of a begin

the with at the moment at how

moment the moment we. bad

handwriting. we wonder anything

actually years if ever really.

really changes ask you are

unable to. begin then to don't

know . know. and we begin, and

laugh questions aimless in

place when questions in or

second comes to, so like why we

can't with at the moment at the

moment or able to, and laugh, we

laugh, might changed years

nothing in return in. cry then.

begin to laugh, and laugh and

laugh why see why we see are so

or question comes like

which is we, think of a good

question begin with at the moment

or how to read bad laugh,

and might be

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seventeen.

nineteen.

twenty.

sixteen.

seven.

four.

ten.

three.

eleven.

thirteen.

twelve.

twenty seven.

twenty five.

twenty three.

five.

twenty six.

thirty one.

zero.

fourteen.

twenty one.

twenty four.

twenty nine.

twenty eight.

six.

one.

eight.

twenty two.

two.

eighteen.

nine.

fifteen.

thirty.