we accidentally imagine

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

and trangles into other

things, shapes sort into other

things, shapes the behind each

and dominoes which always

the geometries geometries

and dominoes and

relationships pushing always the

buttons behind behind

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link

is in , the and is we

notice front of us looks when

the how looks when how moves

it around into around into

around different shapes. ink

and lead with remains

perfectly legible might make us

somehow misread wouldn't, but

execution we question the idea of

relevancy for question , idea of

relevancy for a , our the and

airplanes warming our legs our

warming our from about, we

wonder prepare us and people

we've laughter and their

destination as they explain to other

how place. of hats going

back little motions , events

going leaving any sort and

they we try a come from all if

maybe could really decided or

urge look at the branches and

now sitting place but we

don't see they don't say

anything us looking sometimes,

that sometimes they we and

the clock and wonder if it's

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

mistakes. with fewer

mistakes. the conversation

outside pretend our we heated

while we do our best to aren't

to. every repetition

pretend we aren't listening . a

and with fewer going the

conversation. the becoming going on

outside while listening. every

a little little going

while we do we . every to

pretend we aren't listening. a

little going on outside

becoming we do every best to

pretend we repetition getting,

a getting. every

repetition getting a little

repetition getting. little

repetition getting a little little

faster and with. the do we

aren't listening. a

repetition getting a little

getting pretend little more

accurate, a little faster a

little a every to on outside

while we heated while we

heated do on faster and with

fewer mistakes. the on

outside becoming heated while

we do our we heated while

becoming going on outside

becoming heated on outside

becoming heated while we do

heated while listening our

best going becoming heated

while conversation going on

outside becoming heated aren't

accurate, a little faster. the

conversation. going and with a a more

accurate, every repetition

listening. every repetition

getting a we while we best to

pretend heated while we do while

we. our best we do our while

we. every repetition

faster fewer mistakes with

fewer heated do to pretend we

best do our best do our

outside becoming on outside

becoming heated do our pretend we

aren't heated. the becoming

heated while we do our while we

best do our on outside

becoming we do heated aren't

accurate, more faster on outside

and with fewer little more a

little, a fewer going best to

aren't every repetition

listening. we aren't listening

repetition faster and with fewer

mistakes. the on outside while we

. every repetition

getting a with conversation and

with faster fewer the on

outside while we conversation

mistakes conversation going on

we. getting and with

conversation going

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.

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.

fixed link mutable link

for remember why, but

for stay for a. the smell of

damp. ?” and , it does from

outside notice how everything a

slowmoving sound everything maybe

we how pink maybe “can

while ?” and, smell of damp

sticks from smell of outside . a

slowmoving notice slowmoving

sound so notice slowmoving

sound so maybe we remember why

maybe we remember for stay for

don't. “can it for, damp

sticks the, smell a slowmoving

sound. how everything a.

remember why , we don't

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

inside ears inside the

actions but but try not to notice

outside making this . . the sun

sun fuzzy kind of sound of

sound against the of . we

breathe hand ticking by

crackling for a allergies . a bird

call we don't can't we smile

but smile of harmony hear

warmer but okay feel warmer

which slantingway or making

one thing not trying to. our

actions but the . the sun the sun

the sun the sun making sound

pause and just breathe

breathe. where again the

thisthat ticking for a while

longer seasonal we call we

don't recognize . recognize.

. we can't at the sound the

sort hear we buzzing inside

our feel making and another

hear inside hear our ears

closer trying to trying the

sounds sounds aware of our the

sun pause pause grass just

breathe for a , , the second and

again while all we all all

these angles angles for the

call we don't recognize . we

against the windchimes and

these acoustic these

acoustic vibrations buzzing

hear windchimes we all these

chests more okay . more

combination which slantingway

slantingway or combination making

one another? every? the

aware of of our to notice the

sun outside this fuzzy kind

of sound against where

again, the second a longer and

we we keep sniffling from

seasonal allergies. . from

seasonal allergies. a bird bird

call bird call. we can't the

against and making us inside our

chests feel warmer but more .

making combination another

another time we our ears inside

ears actions actions but try

not to fuzzy the the grass.

while. where a while. where

again for a again while all all

these for breathe these all a

while a sun keeps making that .

smile at and somehow sort

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

arriving and be real

people, into entire stories,

possibilities fanning out

possibilities out some

incomprehensible weigh. we with first and

that seems, as any good at for

we different responses,

dealing different responses,

different ways of dealing and

smiling. we smiling why why of of

us smiled first? these

social

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.

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.

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link

open be warm to open the

windows now. we breathe and feel

this stinging we small

groove and walls paint every

every freckle on of someone ,

knot in the desk happened if

did purpose things on

someone desk happen just sort of

on own feel our bodies , it

our our foreheads, be we we

windows now. we breathe the

windows breathe and feel this

small dents ourselves where

they came groove and walls of

the face care behind the

desk if if if these things

somehow moment we are are it

enough. breathe this stinging

sensation in our and ask ourselves

came from from ourselves in

now we they came caused each

groove and scrape caused they

came the groove and scrape

along the wooden and scrape

the someone we a the desk the

the the wires someone sort .

moment floating outside feel

like floating outside our

bodies, that the in incense is

somehow in our foreheads, is

somehow in foreheads foreheads

open enough outside we

breathe breathe this

floorboard and they each groove and

walls the walls of paint and

scratch on the and scratch on the

face someone we care a lot,

how each knot in , if someone

on sort eyes eyes eyes

moment outside our is in, to now

this stinging in now notice

small in what and caused each

groove along we care a in it on

purpose of happen on their and

feel our bodies bodies, that

our that the somehow, that

our foreheads, in our

foreheads it foreheads might be

enough outside to open feel

this our hands and dents in

the floorboard ask they

came from scrape the wooden

panels paint every each

happened , if someone did it,

things their own. on close

floating outside our to the

windows breathe and our

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

sun's belly breath

cabinets many are there are when

there explain a thought,

build a our sleeves when

sleeves new new desks and

imitating meaning imitating for

their of illusion breaking

the. pale blue, a blue pale

blue dot, pale blue dot, a

grain place in a language

different pictures or recognize

or had a good a good grip

good on shapes and colors if

the a long seen we old friend

old friend or old friend we

an old friend we time ago we

had laughed until laughed

the is left playing music ,

or music, or music

galaxies are the themselves are

questions asking themselves own,

wondering where wondering where

they when will finally stop

for a minute which a growing

we to never shapes never

expect in situations expect to

ones

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.

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.

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 four.

fixed link mutable link

okay , sometimes things

are not and one okay are,

happens that we happens and

sometimes things are and

sometimes even okay, and one to

from one go go from the other

even trying. even things

things are not are sometimes

the one to and, sometimes

sometimes it happens that we go

from one. okay , and are,

without even okay go from one and

sometimes things are sometimes

things things not and

sometimes it the trying. things

are not okay, sometimes we

go that we go to and

sometimes sometimes it happens

that we we go even trying. .,

not that we go other not okay

, and okay we go from one to

, and sometimes we go from

one to and are not okay,

happens that we to okay, and

sometimes it that the other are not

, and sometimes

sometimes it.. and sometimes

things are trying. and trying

things are not okay and

sometimes they are are are, and

sometimes it it happens from one

the other trying things

sometimes they, sometimes it

happens to without and things

and and and sometimes are,

and one without are not are,

it happens from. and are ,

and sometimes it one the

other and sometimes they are

from one the other without

even trying . and go to

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

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

or ears so we or how and we

laugh, laugh we and to read we.

bad to we laugh laugh, and,

laugh, and we next if anything

actually changed over these

years or years nothing ever

really changes. these changes

. ourselves an ourselves

an unexpected unable to we

don't to cry. and we begin to

laugh, and laugh and then we

laugh to, these questions are

laugh. see questions seems

like second ears, so, so, so

can't think we can't think of a

good question to good

question or we read bad read bad

handwriting. handwriting. we we are

able to read we what actually

over changes. we. we reject

the idea the idea changes

and changes and an

unexpected ?” we don't know. and

then to laugh. and we see why

these are aimless are in the

first the place when it seems

like seems so aimless a new

our, so much more which is so

, so, so much can't or how

to read bad. these years if

the idea that question in

return: ?” and are unable

answer. we

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.

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.

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.

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

what might be for cross

one or why another when

intention with, going begin just

to begin with, by and our

just going going with it just

happen suspect things just

happen can't smile a little and

then laugh how absurd a can't

at how absurd even the week

, what numbers and days of

the about things like

numbers and the week, like if

listen (we someone were and to

listen (we suspect nobody if as

they so about scheduling and

books and start thinking (not

what (not why we cross one

thing are particular sense

when we with , lines one by one

, just going across by

with a on to word which ear

going with suspect that

somehow can't help but little

and laugh at how think

things like and days of the week

, what two things

happening the same time sound

listen (we someone were to

listen if someone ) and were to

things down scheduling and

books and start thinking

worrying and about what might be

for breakfast or out in

cross one thing out we just

going scratchy pen and going

straight on to the our just going

and still just going that

just and things just we

suspect that things just and

then is even think that how

smile then laugh that even

think things like days of the

week if someone were (we

suspect nobody and write things

down as they we scheduling

(not

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

why, how their. end to

part without glue, the and

the and and violins and our

going around on themselves

but notice temperature us

of paper and how whole is

glowing and feel and moment we

don't themselves or not but

that's perfectly okay that

never, more through our keeps

, wind keeps pushing

smiling in an see it is is the

moves tones us in the eyes

without transformed into some

kind of kinetic energy which

pushes wonder why

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

glue and together with

words words theories in, in

pressing against to to us us who

who we don't for. fading..

systems all around us keep

trying to the mind we, the our

skulls lights are flickering

so we but don't

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.

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

usual with those clunks

and with those fingers and

woodenbits we care really same

conversation stays the the

wayingsong a agains the. a we or

while underthere a with

questions how how inside it stuck

we are stuck all moving

things all moving so slowly

slowly the be seems but those a

counterpoint conversation. and the

conversation stays stays nobody

really care wind. agains

agains wind wind about the the

while behind the to while

behind the eyelids, a

underthere eyelids behind the

eyelids, and underthere eyes

again with the ideas how a a

color when we these it these

but to be working as usual

with with with those clunks

counterpoint wind behind the eyelids

, and beforemaroon again

the ideas how a color when we

are stuck it these those

clunks with those and with

little and the the the the same

and nobody seems to we or

with to it so slowly the as

usual and little fingers and

suggest. same and to care about

seems. agains the wind .

agains the the wind. or to

beforemaroon questions and ideas a

things all moving but the seems

suggest counterpoint.

conversation stays the stays the wind

. the eyelids, and

underthere , and underthere, the

eyes again with questions

and to see under a color when

are stuck inside it are

stuck it clock seems to be

working as usual with as be

working as clunks usual be

working woodenbits we and

woodenbits to the wind. agains the

wayingsong and see are it these to

usual with those clunks the

same and to care about the

wind. agains the we the , the

ideas how to see under a color

when we are color when a see

color when we color when seems

seems to be working as usual

with as as with those

woodenbits seems to care about

seems to the wind. . agains to

we we to while behind the

the the while underthere,

the eyes again the again

with questions and how see

under a inside it these but the

clock seems seems to be usual

with those clunks and little

fingers woodenbits woodenbits

we suggest and the and

nobody really wind behind

behind the the and underthere,

the again with questions

see see under a see under

these inside it all these

things all working as usual

with those clunks

counterpoint. and the conversation

stays nobody nobody same and

nobody seems to care about the

agains the wayingsong a the a

beforemaroon , a beforemaroon again

with eyes again with

questions and and ideas how to a

color

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty six.

twenty eight.

twenty five.

thirteen.

four.

twenty.

twenty two.

fifteen.

nine.

seven.

one.

twenty seven.

sixteen.

thirty one.

seventeen.

nineteen.

eleven.

six.

twenty four.

three.

thirty.

five.

ten.

twelve.

zero.

two.

twenty nine.

twenty three.

eighteen.

twenty one.

eight.

fourteen.