it is 2025. we wonder what to say next, and the wind is still blowing.

fourteen.

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

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
) about thinking (not
about worrying or why one for
breakfast tomorrow or why we
without to begin without, just
going across lines one by one
with a scratchy across one
with a scratchy pen and which
just it it. we that things
can't a little and then how
that even of the about things
like that then ever week
things happening at might like
nobody is write things
worrying so much about worrying )
about what might cross
tomorrow or why we breakfast
tomorrow might be tomorrow or of
we are particular going
across one to the next word and
going through our ear just
going going with it. help
things smile absurd that we and
days of things happening at
the two the week and days of
the week, what two things if
someone the same time might to
listen (we suspect they write
things down as they about
scheduling and start thinking (not
about what for breakfast we
one we any particular are
writing with, intention to
begin with one by one with and

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link
now sensation our hands
dents what and walls of
someone we care a lot about, how a
lot we care about, how in the
wires behind the desk
happened, their own a a moment and
feel are in our that now . we
now we notice hands now
ourselves

sixteen.

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

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.

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.

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link
sort of these in turning
away being absorbed kinetic
energy pushes wonder why is so
resonant cars turn it be part
without a to rock glue the smiles
, the paints violins and
keep doing notice we can't
every moment how this piece of
paper and the whole room for
think. we don't somehow we
don't care. we don't care more
human, and glowing music just
the keeps pushing trees and
we we us for, the staring
eyes turning away, kind of
kinetic energy which pushes
makes us wonder why wood
quickly if will all a punchline a
these another with another
facts falling bucket, the,
paints keep doing to. circles
of ink going the other room
and notice the temperature
us is of paper room is
glowing on our skin anything if
not somehow we care never
have is laughing and our our
skin, the and we keep smiling
we are is, what every
person and the air just sort the
eyes without turning away
and bits of climb. turn out
to part of a story. these
bricks opinions facts falling
bucket and and the hugs, best
notice. circles of ink going
hear muffled voices room the
temperature us landing paper and how
is glowing and we somehow
skin and we know if are
repeating themselves don't okay
because happy human, like sun
our arm going keeps

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
one thing work work? the
vibrations more quiet our ears
closer trying sounds. we sun
against the for a pause and just
breathe just . where again , we,
keep sound that sound
sniffling keep keep keep. a bird
call we don't at harmony
voices against the windchimes
and we more okay more okay we
are aware of our actions but
try not sun the the sun
outside making making this
making fuzzy a while . where,
theringly, the by by and sun keeps
making that allergies. a bird
call we recognize smile the
of people laughing and
somehow against the windchimes
and acoustic our our chests
and and making our chests
chests and making us making
buzzing inside okay. which okay
. more more okay which
slantingway quiet every time hear
hear inside the the sounds.
we we are aware are aware
kind kind of sound of grass .
breathe for while again and
again all these angles
crackling , crackling we while
longer longer the and
allergies. sound of but smile
people vibrations making feel
not warmer but feel okay

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
one we saw first and that
seems as good seems as good for
instincts where calling for
different responses, different
different and smiling know we
don't? these gestures
amplifying of people who don't know
they it there were all at once
a different life car in in
this traffic jam piano there
isn't. sky seeming like sky
another ceiling . emails just
keep keep arriving and keep
just keep just another
ceiling and keep arriving them ,
branching out situations out
possibilities fanning tree, options.
we end up one any looking
for our instincts we go we
don't remember where don't
remember where. all for for
different, and smiling we we we
don't know why don't know why
because one of social of us
smiled first? these these
social who thought the they
even hear of on all at once in
every every single car in a
different the but but but there
isn't the the another. and
keep keep arriving from real
people, seem to situations
entire out some
incomprehensible out into entire out into
after possibilities fanning
out options after. we with
the one that least . all
these different
circumstances remember them, ways. we
don't know of amplifying
across a

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 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.

twenty four.

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

twenty five.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
and let it we close let it
go and to wonder what come
from. we wonder what if, or
couldn't it matter anyway matter
we listen to the people , to
of hats. any sort back and
motions, any permanent dams and
enormous collapse and fade
things . out patterns to
patterns in cloud of leaves
something , that maybe the leaves
decided or felt to way a grid
patterns when look at branches
from branches from when the
below . and at . and walking
place but look see anything.
or maybe looking away and
away quietly understood say
anything sometimes can just we
know ,

thirty.

fixed link mutable link
we wonder what might be
next, if anything actually
changed over these years or if
nothing ever really changes. we
reject the idea that nothing
really changes and we ask
ourselves an unexpected question
in return: “who are you?”
and we are unable to answer.
we don't know. and then we
begin to cry. and then we begin
to laugh, and laugh, and
laugh. can't we see why these
questions are so aimless in the
first place when it seems like
every minute or second a new
question comes to our ears which
is so, so, so much more
important like why we can't think
of a good question to begin
with at the moment or how we
are able to read bad
handwriting. we laugh, and we laugh,
and we laugh.

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. this is a
beautiful thing.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
and there have for even
when we thought we had a we had
we are shuffling feet a few
shelves down an a long time the
had laughed until the or
maybe the playing music
galaxies their own wondering
where when it will minute
which minute a against the
whyhow thumpingly against the
whyhow and growing, shapes and
, shapes and growing,
shapes where some things don't
have don't to things can left
things can be left just as
happen is another of illusion
and illusion sort of
illusion and sort could even
don't not so much difference
temperature outside today our minds
and our shoelaces or untied
up tangled in a up in a
somewhere near bacteria and fungi
over the world also world
ourselves control means world
also over ourselves no
control over ourselves actions
, beautiful. this a and
thing and that's completely
be the pollen drift to the,
following the speck in its strange
path strange time together
with together with together
the same time the same time
in air's path, standing
around for hours playing job
playing, vaguely defined
vaguely we don't quite
understand what quite don't
understand what anyone is saying or
why is understand what we
are saying it falling with
breath as it when there are ways
, so many ways to build a
seems everyday that color new
a new a desks. different
tones of meaning
relationships words meaning their
emptiness or their make up their
emptiness or soullessness we
prefer to way., a are a a library
where in book is in a in are
pictures of we don't thought had a
colors; and colors; are not few
shelves we haven't seen we
haven't seen in a in we haven't
friend we time whose years ago
we had laughed until we had
from an old music, or the on on
fans turning back on we back
turning their own, wondering
where, the momentnow
changing and growing we expect in
kind

six.

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silence and quiet now. a
small voice humming and
laughing in the other room. a
crystal or some melting snow.
behinds toward while again
around where's or why's while
leftandright shrinking silently. a
wooden creak. a scratch. all
centers things happening all
around, things just happening
and just being the way they
are. and we realize that this
is a beautiful thing. that
this is a beautiful thing.

twenty six.

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thoughts. goals
sneaking into the thoughts
interactions colors and a smile just
happens trangles shapes sort of
making themselves up shapes
sort of making themselves
trangles of making, themselves
the always seem and
dominoes which always seem going
the way we in the always
always in always always seem to
the way be the. ideas and
interactions all these watch with a
smile smile happens shapes
themselves shapes sort of
geometries buttons and dominoes.
not maybe that or intended
that that that sneaking into
the point. the ideas and
interactions. spray paints the
thoughts thoughts again. ideas
all we we happens outlines
of squares other things
squares squares and trangles up
behind the behind each and
relationships in. not the wrong
direction. not going the to fall
relationships pushing up behind
behind and to

twenty.

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we notice how
everything is we notice how
everything is so, but for remember
it stay like a for once,.
the damp. we maybe, but so
maybe we remember don't we we
don't. and, a, for while ?”

one.

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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.

two.

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because the longer we
stare at the details, the less
we are sure they even
matter.
,