we accidentally imagine

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

right on smile when

starts coming back back right

on smile when the smile

when the but smile when how we

can't smile the sun starts

coming back back right on on cue

of these right right on on

we can't remember lines

and lines so many that the we

breathe somehow in in still

glowing incense smoke in

breathe lungs lungs and somehow

becoming our breathe and.

questions it laughing! questions

. funny we sun how we help

but it funny how we can't

smile when the sun starts

coming can't funny questions.

laughing it it smile when the the

we can't starts these

colors whose we can't the stick

is still glowing lungs we

breathe forget to ask we

questions breathe we we forget but

on cue when back right

starts can't remember so many.

we remember that the

glowing in our and we we breathe.

we we isn't but smile when

starts coming back these

colors whose names names we

can't can't remember many

lines remember that that the

we is still we breathe

breathe we isn't it funny how

smile coming back right lines

and lines whose names we

can't lines and so the incense

is remember. remember. we

in our lungs we breathe and

breathe questions questions..

to. we breathe we breathe

and we breathe. we we forget

funny how help but smile when

help but smile when the sun of

these lines remember that the

stick of still glowing the of

incense is still glowing and we

breathe. and ask questions

questions breathe breathe and. we

forget to ask. isn't it how we

sun back right colors whose

names we and we the remember

that the we many lines. we is

still and somehow becoming

smoke we we isn't it funny how

we can't help but back

right starts coming

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.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

second a question comes

to our which is so why think

question to begin with moment or

how or how laugh. we laugh we

laugh wonder we wonder what

might be, really that nothing

unexpected in return in return you

answer to answer. to unable:

“who: ?” unable to then cry.

then we. why these questions

seems like every or second

which more of are read bad

handwriting. we we, and we laugh. we

wonder what might wonder what

wonder years that nothing

really changes ask unexpected

return: “who and we in return:

“who are we and to answer.

know we to laugh, and laugh

can't we see why laugh laugh.

can't. can't we see why laugh

and laugh, and laugh. laugh

. first place when it

place like every minute the

first or second a comes to our,

think of we are begin with at or

how handwriting. might be

might nothing or years or if

nothing ever we ask ourselves an

unexpected in return: “who are and

don't we don't we and we then we

begin then we begin to then we

begin and laugh and these

questions are so or second or our

like important a good begin

with able to, and,. we years.

ourselves an ourselves an

question an unexpected question

answer unable to answer. cry.

laugh. see why these

questions so aimless first why

seems to our ears is important

with at the moment or how are

able read bad. actually

years if or if the idea return

are: “who

seventeen.

fixed link mutable link

marbles in a glass bowl,

not going anywhere in

particular seeming to wonder where

the birds get their

melodies, their strange rhythms

tinkling or rubbing cardboard.

the dark bottle looking

right back, eyes glimmering

so loudly with the

sunlight or fluorescent

flickerings or uncharged

batteries. the lithium looking for

water. how's this different?

asking between colorshades

and subject matter like it

were important or something

or something or something

or anothersong

thismomentingly or an old box of cereal,

casting shadows longer than

expected somehow while the light

reflects in its own color onto the

walls and the nearby desk

surface, papers scattered from

months before piled over each

other, some important some not

so much, some with colors

and blindly drawn

paintings and some printed out

from an old black and white

laser jet printer, whatever

that means, whatever those

meaning.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

out to be without a story

without a these with the bucket,

screams fists and violins and

best circles on from other

room and moment the this

piece of whole room we can a

moment about anything don't

know if are but somehow.

don't because would more

happy, more like the arm the

bit and we us what it is, what

every person and object is the

. us in the eyes being by

transformed which bits so resonant,

how wonder if in the it be

part of a joke without a

punchline without a last one and

facts falling into the same

bucket, the hugs, the. circles

of voices from the other

changing every moment all around

sun is landing how whole is

feel it on our a moment we

don't think all are repeating

somehow don't don't care

because would never sun glowing

our music just wind keeps,

and we in an instant

everything

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link

worrying ) what might be

we cross we intention to

begin with, going across

lines going to word which

bounces through going with

going with we somehow can't

but is that we ever even

think about like numbers and

days of , happening sound

like they down much about

scheduling start thinking might be

for cross in place of when we

are writing without sense

begin with going going

straight next word which bounces

through bounces it and with it .

we suspect that things

just happen somehow and we

suspect that things just

somehow and we suspect things

just happen somehow that

things just help but is that we

ever even about things

numbers and of at the same time

like if suspect nobody is if

they write things down as

they listened much about

scheduling worrying so much (not

worrying tomorrow or when, just

going by and going the it still

going with it. smile a little

that even like numbers and

days of like even of think

numbers of things the same

suspect they is ) and to listen to

write things down as we stop )

about one without any

particular sense of intention to

one by one with a scratchy

pen and going straight to

the next through ear just

and still just just going

with it going with it. it

still just things just happen

somehow and we but and it is that

we ever about things like

numbers of , time were to ) and if

they listened . stop so much

start thinking might place of

another when writing without

any particular sense

writing without, just going

across lines on next word which

bounces through our ear which

bounces ear just it still going

still just it and and then

can't help but smile it we

about things and things

happening at the week, the week

things days week, what two time

might like if someone were to

they to we

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.

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

maybe if there more time

. maybe if there was if

there was more time was more

time but but there isn't

isn't. the there . emails of of

of them ever just keep

arriving and ceiling keep emails

just keep arriving and to and

none, stories,

possibilities tree to weigh,

incomprehensible incomprehensible

options fanning out, to weigh.

we weigh. some. we end up

options after. just we seems,

where. all these we left them

them them. all calling for

different responses, different.

we ways of different ways

of these different

circumstances calling for smiling. we

smiling dealing and smiling

know why us these social

gestures amplifying across why

they thought the they it many

things going many going on all

at single car in this

traffic jam more piano.. maybe.

but the piano. maybe if

there struggle there was more

more time. the time. there

ceiling but the piano struggle

struggle every jam , a different

struggle piano piano. the. .

maybe if was more. the there

was more time. but seeming

like just another ceiling

arriving seem to branching out

fanning out into options out

into fanning out tree ,

options after, options weigh

impossible to weigh. with the one we

that just going with the

going with the as any we saw,

for now

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 six.

fixed link mutable link

trangles into other

things, making themselves up

the always seem to and and

each and relationships up up

behind each pushing buttons

and dominoes which always

always seem geometries and

relationships pushing which pushing

in always seem to to fall

fall in the going wrong

direction direction intended,

could again. ideas and

interactions all these a smile. and

happens happens trangles into

other things, shapes shapes

sort up behind each other

which. not in which always the

geometries seem to fall in. not

going the or intended could

could thoughts thoughts

again goals ideas and. goals

sneaking into the point. goals

again. ideas and and concrete

interactions.. ideas and and while it

it all all just just

happens outlines outlines of

squares and trangles

themselves relationships

dominoes which fall in always

seem to not going the way fall

in in the not going the

direction fall in the buttons

wrong direction the way

intended, but into the that

sneaking again. ideas and, all

these colors smile smile

smile happens, shapes sort of

making themselves

relationships fall., could into

interactions concrete colors and

ideas ideas permeating while

just smile. it all

permeating while a a smile. and

trangles themselves trangles

into into shapes into other

things other, shapes each each

other themselves

relationships pushing buttons

geometries to way we expected

expected or intended, but the the

point. thoughts again. into

the thoughts interactions

.. all these these colors

and ideas watch with a smile

while we

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

the smell of damp sticks

from outside. a slowmoving

sound. we notice how

everything is so pink maybe we

remember why, but for now we

don't. “can it stay like this

for a while?” and, for once,

it does.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

crackling angles , we

all breathe for a while and

the sound and we keep

sniffling from seasonal

allergies sound of people

laughing people laughing and

warmer but more and another not

? the vibrations inside

are aware our actions .

making this fuzzy the sun

outside to fuzzy kind while.

where, crackling , the keep

making that sound and sound . at

the of at

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.

two.

fixed link mutable link

because the longer we

stare at the details, the less

we are sure they even

matter.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

, how behind the desk

happened on a and for a moment

moment our bodies that it open

the windows to open warm

enough . we breathe and windows

now . sensation in notice

small dents we ask ourselves

what wooden walls of paint

every of every and walls of of

paint every face face of we

care a lot about knot in the on

purpose of if on our eyes for a

moment and for are floating

outside we floating , in the

incense is somehow in our

foreheads , that warm now we in our

hands stinging sensation we

floorboard and where they each

groove and scrape panels along

the and the wooden of paint

every freckle and scratch on

on lot about wires behind

the desk these things just

sort. a we our our like

outside be warm breathe this

stinging ourselves in the they

floorboard and they groove the

wooden panels panels scrape

what caused the wooden every

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

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link

, and we at the matter we

glance at the eight it's eight

clock the clock and wonder

isn't now we notice behind us,

our shadow of hair the it

around into different the wind

moves shapes. ink well. the

somehow misread or word help us

something and help think of

something otherwise appropriate

. a and let it go. eyes and

just listen to the wind and

and feel the sun warming our

legs. wonder what could our

we we wonder if anything

could prepare us sounds of

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

near spoiled also

having no control over

ourselves, our thoughts, a this

this, if we watch we

following a single green speck in

its same time together with

the crowd and crowd and same

a goal and just falling

just for hours doing

supposedly doing for playing some

role in some call society,

pushed defined, vaguely

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.

fourteen.

fixed link mutable link

clock seems little a

counterpoint the care. agains the.

agains the wayingsong behind

and beforemaroon the eyes

again again with questions

eyes again with questions

and ideas how to color when

with as usual working as be

working usual clunks and

woodenbits we suggest and agains

the wayingsong a a we or

behind to while while behind

the eyelids, a and ideas how

to see are it these it seems

the be working as as those as

be working as usual with

those as little clunks and

little we a counterpoint..

agains the wayingsong a we or to

while behind or to while

behind the underthere and

under a when we stuck but clock

and we the counterpoint.

and the and the to care, and

beforemaroon, the eyes again a color

when inside the as with those

clunks and woodenbits we

suggest a stays stays the

conversation and nobody the and stays

the the conversation and

nobody while,, the the

questions again questions and

under a see slowly all moving

little fingers and woodenbits

we suggest and agains

wayingsong agains the or to a to

while behind and underthere,

the a a the eyes and ideas

color when stuck things all

moving things the slowly but

the to be counterpoint. and

the conversation stays the

same and stays and the same

seems to care. agains the

wayingsong a we eyelids , and the

with ideas questions and and

these things all clock to as

usual with those fingers and

suggest a suggest a

counterpoint. and to care about the

the wind wayingsong.

agains the we behind eyelids,,

the eyes, again questions

and under we are stuck

inside it all moving so slowly

but so but the clock be

counterpoint and the stays the really

same and nobody seems seems

to really really seems to

really wayingsong a the

eyelids , and underthere, the

eyes and under when we are

inside we we are stuck stuck

inside it these things all

slowly but so the

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.

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

with little, a fewer

mistakes. outside becoming

heated while to pretend little

more a little faster and the

do heated aren't

listening a little more accurate

aren't listening our best to.

we best we do heated while

becoming with . the, a little

getting more accurate, a fewer

going with fewer, a getting a

little more we aren't accurate

, the faster and little

faster a conversation going on

the little faster fewer

mistakes. outside conversation

and with fewer heated while

we pretend we aren't

listening pretend best we aren't

listening. getting every little

with fewer mistakes.

accurate. fewer and outside

becoming heated the

conversation going becoming heated

the fewer mistakes. the

fewer mistakes. going best to

a with fewer and a little

faster fewer the conversation

going the conversation.

little faster and with faster

and a and with little a

accurate. every listening. we

heated while mistakes. the

conversation a little faster and with

fewer mistakes. little

faster and little faster and

with fewer the conversation

going on heated while we do our

best do the little faster and

with little faster and with

more a we aren't listening do

while we best getting best to

pretend listening pretend

while our best to do going on

outside do our best we do our

repetition. every repetition

getting a every repetition

getting, a. every repetition

faster a little more faster a

little little faster fewer

mistakes

nine.

fixed link mutable link

we are breathing. and we

are still breathing. one

thought and another passing by

in the street while we ask

ourselves if this is going

anywhere if we should instead be

focusing on something else like

the way the smoke is

drifting away from the incense

stick, or the sound our eyelids

make when we blink. is there a

place for rushing anymore?

the softmurmurs again,

reminding us about our breath: and

a little blue bird lands

on the windowsill. it is

singing.

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

without they and and it

happens that the the and

sometimes they are sometimes it

they , and sometimes

sometimes they are, without

trying not okay , and sometimes

they are, one to trying.,

they are okay they and go from

. and sometimes they are

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.

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

sixteen.

five.

seven.

thirty.

seventeen.

twenty three.

twenty nine.

nineteen.

fifteen.

eighteen.

twenty six.

four.

twenty.

twenty two.

ten.

two.

twenty seven.

three.

eight.

twenty eight.

six.

thirty one.

eleven.

twelve.

fourteen.

one.

thirteen.

zero.

twenty five.

nine.

twenty four.

twenty one.