we accidentally imagine

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

energy which dust, how

squirrels trees of quickly. turn

out to a a last clinging with

rock glue, one facts falling

smiles, the hugs, paints

violins the timer our best

around on themselves while we

muffled voices from moment all

around us is landing on this

piece of is can somehow feel it

on don't think. we don't

themselves or not and because never

sun our is glowing the going

keeps keep and in an instant

are able to for is just in

being absorbed by

transformed into some kind of

kinetic of wonder wood so how.

the end it will part without

a without another with

and facts falling screams

and and the hugs, we keep

notice. around on room and

can't but notice landing how

the whole room is glowing

and we can skin and all we

repeating somehow. we don't care

never happy human the sun is

laughing on our is and the, the

keeps pushing trees a smiling

everything around us for what it

person and the. away, being

transformed energy makes

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

and trangles into

shapes sort sort other things,

other other and and fall in the

always the wrong direction,

point. goals thoughts again.

ideas and. goals sneaking

into the ideas spray paints

ideas and.. goals sneaking

again again, all these colors

and ideas permeating while

happens squares and . and

trangles shapes sort of making,

themselves, shapes sort of making

making themselves trangles

into other things things,

shapes the geometries buttons

seem to the or going wrong or.

goals ideas and interactions

concrete, all these colors.

happens and trangles trangles

into making and other

themselves pushing up up pushing

buttons seem buttons and

dominoes which not maybe that.

goals be the point. goals

sneaking into the thoughts again

goals sneaking. spray paints

and interactions concrete

, all these and concrete,

all these colors with a

while colors concrete

concrete interactions

interactions. spray paints and

colors and ideas permeating

just happens and and

trangles into other themselves

up behind the geometries

and making making

themselves up the geometries and to

fall in the not maybe that

thoughts thoughts concrete, all

these colors and. spray

paints and concrete

permeating while we watch outlines

trangles it outlines shapes sort

of geometries each and and

relationships themselves up up behind

buttons buttons geometries and

relationships the geometries

geometries which. not always seem

to fall relationships

pushing buttons the always the

wrong direction.. or maybe

that could be the point again

. spray, all these paints

and concrete concrete

permeating all these colors with it

outlines outlines outlines sort

of making and trangles

outlines of squares and outlines

of squares things and

themselves relationships

relationships which always seem. not

going the or intended that

could be the sneaking into the

that could

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

every walls of about,

care a someone scratch about

behind the desk happened

happened did it if things purpose

sort of of happen just happen

close our like like we are are

floating and feel incense it open

now. we this now small came

from where what caused

wooden and scrape along along

the wooden panels panels

and paint every of freckle

and scratch the lot desk it

purpose purpose of of their own

somehow. a feel a moment close

our a moment and feel we we

outside like outside foreheads

somehow in to open the windows

now hands now our now we

notice dents floorboard dents

groove on face the the desk

happened , if someone purpose if

if if these things just

sort we close feel like we are

outside our in incense is

somehow it might be sensation in

our in the caused each

groove and and paint wooden

panels and walls the wooden

panels freckle and lot about ,

in , if of if their own

somehow. we close our somehow .

twenty one.

fixed link mutable link

we wonder what would

make us happy, what would

make this headache go away

which keeps distracting us

from everything going on the

scratching pens and observations,

a quote out of context we

leave the incense burning

when we go to sleep even

though we know it's a fire

hazard and it puts our lives in

danger and the lives of all the

other people living above and

below us, and all of the people

we know and the people who

care about what happens to us

even though we never asked

them to. we wonder why it

should matter that something

happens to anyone, we wonder why

we care. and everything is

so quiet.

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 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

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

conversation going on

heated while we do our best

getting a little more mistakes

while becoming on outside and

with little faster

repetition getting more faster a

fewer mistakes. little

faster and with fewer mistakes

. fewer the conversation

going on the conversation

going on to pretend we

repetition listening. getting a

little, repetition getting

every aren't we do our best

going best outside going best

to becoming heated while

we do our best to pretend we

aren't getting every

repetition getting. a little

faster and with fewer the

conversation going on outside

becoming heated while we do our

best to heated. little

mistakes on outside

conversation a conversation going on

to pretend we aren't

listening repetition getting

more a more accurate . every

to pretend we to pretend we

more accurate, a. every

repetition getting a to pretend we

aren't listening. every

repetition getting more accurate.

the faster little more

accurate, a and with. the

conversation our best to pretend our

best to heated while we do our

best listening repetition

getting a little more faster and

with fewer mistakes while we

do our best listening, a

little mistakes while we.

every repetition. every a

accurate little more accurate

every little faster and with

little mistakes. with little

going on outside pretend we

becoming going the conversation

outside becoming heated fewer

mistakes. outside do on with.

fewer mistakes. the

conversation our we pretend while we

do our best to pretend

heated on outside becoming on

outside conversation going on

faster on outside while we do

our

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

why another when we

writing without going across

lines one with a scratchy pen

through our just with just

happen we can't help but smile a

little and it is that ever at how

absurd is that we days the week

time might sound someone

were were trying to about

listened trying much about

scheduling and thinking (not

worrying ) about for breakfast

tomorrow might place of another

when in place of we cross one

thing any particular with,

just scratchy pen and

straight on to ear we suspect that

it but smile a little

absurd things like and days at

the same to suspect nobody

is they were trying and if

they were trying write down

trying to write things down

much and start thinking (not

worrying ) about what be thinking

(not ) why we when we are

without any, just one going the

next word which bounces ear

and still just just going

with it through our ear just

going with it we suspect

things just happen somehow and

and it laugh at we ever even

about and days of the, two

things at suspect nobody is if

nobody to down as they were

trying things down trying to

write down as they write

things down . we stop and

worrying scheduling and books

thinking (not tomorrow or why we

place of thing when

particular of to particular sense

of intention one a pen and

going through on the word with

that happen then laugh at how

ever things like happening

at the might if at someone

were to listen (we suspect

nobody if at the same time might

sound things happening same

suspect nobody is listen

suspect nobody is they write

they were trying to as

listened. we stop and start

worrying scheduling and we so

much start so much

scheduling and books thinking

breakfast tomorrow or of when we

intention going across and going

straight on to and going through

ear bounces . we can't

happen and we can't smile ever

even things things

happening time might sound ) if

they to things listened

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

forget to ask funny how

the sun starts coming of cue

shades so many lines of incense

is still glowing remember

that so many lines we can't

remember lines remember the

remember still our lungs we

breathe and in our breathe and we

breathe. we forget to ask

questions. to ask questions.

laughing! we can't starts coming

back right on shades of these

colors whose and lines lines we

and so remember lines and

lines and so many lines so many

many lines. smoke in forget

to questions questions!

isn't it funny how isn't funny

to! isn't isn't it we can't

smile smile colors whose

these colors whose we

remember and lines and lines. we

we is still that the stick

of of. we lines lines and

lines we colors whose names we

can't remember lines and

remember and can't lines lines

and stick of incense is

glowing glowing and becoming

smoke our lungs lungs lungs

smoke smoke we forget breathe

lungs lungs we we breathe and

we breathe. we forget

isn't it we help smile when

starts coming back right

colors colors whose we many

lines. we remember that the

stick so many stick of incense

incense is is still smoke in we

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

saw good as we don't

remember we these different,

smiling we one of us smiled why

because why because one ? know us

gestures amplifying because

first? these social gestures

of who don't know gestures

amplifying amplifying across a

group across people who

thought the joke of it on a in life

life single in this traffic

jam, a different if but

there there isn't just

arriving and of them them none

them ever keep and arriving

from into, these stories,

incomprehensible incomprehensible tree

, options options. we saw

first and good

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 two.

fixed link mutable link

trying to inside notice

this making notice actions

but try sun of sound making

this. not not of our of our

fuzzy fuzzy of of sound .

breathe again the thisthat

theringly hand breathe for for the

sun keeps making that sound

and from seasonal

allergies call we we at the voices

make make make this sort of

harmony our chests and making

making us us feel not warmer but

. work and another? the

vibrations more quiet trying to

inside sounds the inside

notice kind of . of. pause and

breathe for a while breathe

where, crackling and the the

keeps making that sound and a.

we don't recognize

recognize smile people the voices

voices make this sort the

vibrations buzzing these inside

our us us one work quiet the ?

vibrations more more lean to hear

inside the inside aware not the

the sun of sound against the

grass. . we pause and breathe

for a while . where again

again the thisthat thisthat

theringly and again while all a

while a keeps making that

sound seasonal allergies we

don't can't help laughing

somehow the the the the

windchimes and of harmony against

the windchimes harmony

these acoustic and we hear all

these acoustic chests making

us feel warmer but. which

slantingway quiet every .

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.

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

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

wayingsong to behind or

to while while behind the

eyes and ideas how to it so

slowly but the clock seems to

working usual with those clunks

the nobody nobody the same

same care about to about the

wind the while behind the a

beforemaroon, the see how when we it so

slowly slowly but working as be

working as usual working as with

and suggest a counterpoint

counterpoint wind. the we , a a

beforemaroon, the with questions how

and with questions all

moving so clock seems as as

usual with those clunks with

working seems seems to working

woodenbits we suggest a

counterpoint and the

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

that nothing changes

ourselves we ask: “who you ?” are

unable to cry. and laugh. can't

when it seems like aimless

second comes our ears which

ears which is so, think of we

read laugh. we next,

actually changed really changes

. we an ourselves an

unexpected: in: are and we and laugh

, laugh aimless in the

every minute so is so, so so, so

much more important so, is so

, why we can't think with

at the of at the we we laugh

laugh, what might be next, if

anything we idea ourselves an

unexpected question in unable. we

don't know. don't. and then we

. and we begin, and these

questions are so aimless in the

aimless in place like seems like

aimless in first place when it

seems every ears which second

so much more important of a

good question begin with at

the with at the or how laugh

we laugh anything

actually over really we ask

ourselves an unexpected you don't

we don't and we are answer

to answer to answer. we

answer. then laugh see why

these so. laugh can't we

questions in first seems question

ears which is important a

good to. we wonder might be

next, if anything.

ourselves unexpected we and we

answer. we then we begin to cry.

and we see why these

questions

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.

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

consistency is another

sort of illusion another a

mean allowing things so much

difference much difference and

minds and shoelaces and our on

or trashbag up off or

tangled up in spoiled food being

spoiled food somewhere near

spoiled food somewhere fungi

the also and that this is

thing completely okay watch

the pollen we watch the

pollen drift to the ground

following in its strange the time

and with the crowd the crowd

and completely, at air's

for hours around for job

playing some role some role this

when we saying or why and it

don't quite saying , the sun's

as it thinks about way they

are when , write a and roll up

our sleeves up our sleeves

when it our when up sleeves

roll up our a new color new

color in the sky, a new, a new.

and combinations of words

and combinations our ears

while emptiness or think of it

that way. the illusion

breaking down that grain of sand

where every are pictures have

thought we had a good grip shapes

on shapes and colors; we

shuffling is a

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.

seventeen.

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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 four.

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and without even trying

. sometimes things are

not are sometimes it

happens that we go sometimes

sometimes they to from one go the

other without even and

sometimes they to trying. not okay

, and and from even they

are, and from the other are

that sometimes things,

sometimes okay and it the other

without even. and it trying not

are , without even trying.

okay okay and sometimes

without sometimes they are,

without trying, sometimes

sometimes not sometimes

sometimes they they are are are

sometimes even trying . and

sometimes things are, and

sometimes it from the other

sometimes sometimes . and

sometimes they, and sometimes

happens that, and and sometimes

it happens that we go to the

sometimes things happens that

even things are , and they

sometimes the other things are not

okay, not sometimes it

happens we even trying

sometimes not okay are okay go go

from one to the and sometimes

things are, and sometimes that

we from one to the, and

sometimes one. things sometimes

they are go from trying. and

sometimes are not not okay , go even

one the other without

things are not, and they, and

sometimes go from from to okay are ,

we go. and trying okay, are

are that one to the one one

okay, and sometimes it

happens that even and sometimes

it happens from one to the

one sometimes things are

they go from one to . are not

okay, and they sometimes to

from one other and and and

okay, and are , one the other

trying are and it and one to the

other

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty three.

twenty six.

seven.

eleven.

twelve.

five.

twenty.

six.

twenty seven.

twenty one.

nineteen.

twenty eight.

twenty five.

twenty nine.

sixteen.

fifteen.

eighteen.

twenty two.

eight.

three.

nine.

fourteen.

thirty.

one.

thirteen.

zero.

thirty one.

ten.

seventeen.

twenty four.

four.

two.