we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

seed 5885711

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

twenty four.

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

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 five.

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

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.

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.

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.

sixteen.

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

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link
sound and we allergies
don't recognize . we of but at
people laughing and the of
people laughing and somehow
voices the the of of harmony
against the of sort of our chests
and making warmer but thing
one making . work and
combination making one thing and the
we our ears. of not not
notice pause the again the
thisthat the thisthat while.
where again the hand for a
longer we breathe we breathe
these sound that sound
sniffling from seasonal
allergies seasonal allergies . a
sniffling from seasonal
allergies we keep. from seasonal
allergies call we don't at the
sound of people laughing and
the voices make voices
windchimes all our chests and not
but more more okay more okay
. one thing not one lean
our ears trying to hear hear
inside the sun kind pause and
second hand hand by by again and
second hand hand ticking by all
sun sun sun keeps making
longer and breathe we help but
smile at the windchimes
buzzing our our chests making
our chests and making us
feel feel not warmer but
warmer . or more slantingway
thing work and another time
trying to to hear inside the
notice . the we pause and just
and a again the sun keeps
keep sniffling from
seasonal allergies. a bird from
sniffling from seasonal
allergies . harmony voices
buzzing inside our chests not
okay . more okay more quiet
every time we lean actions to
notice . sun making outside
making this this fuzzy the sun
outside of sound the second hand
while all these crackling ,
the sun keeps making
sniffling from seasonal
allergies. allergies a can't help
smile smile laughing and this
this of harmony voices make
this sort of of all these
acoustic vibrations inside us
feel not warmer but. which
okay. . making one or
combination ? the vibrations more?
the vibrations vibrations
more quiet every we our of our
not not to. the this for a
while. where the while all
these all all sun making that
making longer and the sun keeps
making that sound and we keep
sniffling from seasonal
allergies we keep call don't bird
call we don't recognize call
we don't recognize and

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 three.

fixed link mutable link
is glowing we can
somehow feel it for a don't think
about don't know things care
because have happy or, more like
sun is laughing on our arm
through our music, around a
smiling and in an instant we are
us, the air just sort of us
in, being absorbed by into
wonder why wood, turn their if
in all be part of a
punchline sentence. one glue
opinions the and paints timer
ticking and we keep of ink going
the can't around sun
landing how skin and for think or
care and that's perfectly
okay

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link
life car in this traffic
behind every note behind isn't
. the another arriving
and arriving and none seem
to be from to, all these
situations branching out
impossible to weigh. going with as
good good now, for now at
least looking as at and that
seems good as now our don't
remember where these we don't
remember where calling for
responses left them. all all
different calling and smiling we
are smiling and we smiled
first?? smiled first these
across one of us group don't
know know they they of it all
at once because didn't
were many many at once story
in every this story in this
traffic behind there but the
ceiling. emails just people,
possibilities fanning out into some .
saw first we up just just
with just going with the and
good as any, for go where we go
we go looking but we
instincts but we these these
different circumstances
different different ways of. we
are social gestures
amplifying across gestures
amplifying why they across they
know didn't even it things
going, a different traffic
jam struggle maybe maybe
maybe if there was time. there
isn't like just emails just.
just arriving and none of of
to be real be from real
people , possibilities
options options after just
going with the one we we saw
first that seems , least as as
any, for instincts . all but
don't remember remember
where we left where left them.
, because one of us smiled
first? amplifying people
they thought even hear half
were many things going on,
there were, in this traffic
jam more there the there.
the another ceiling and
these situations branching
out into entire stories
some incomprehensible
after options impossible to
the one all these
circumstances different smiling and
because one across a who know why
thought the joke was funny when
they they didn't didn't it
things going story in traffic

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.

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 seven.

fixed link mutable link
it might, is our
foreheads warm now to open the
windows. open the we small where
where they what caused each
groove panels and walls
scratch , knot in behind the desk
happened, if if someone did it
sort of happen things
purpose if these things happen
just sort sort of on somehow.
bodies bodies, our foreheads,
that warm now. we this

twenty nine.

fixed link mutable link
it is that we even think
about things like two at the
same time might to suspect
nobody is and to nobody is ) down
as they listened and books
start what might tomorrow or
when we writing with, just
going across lines one by and
straight to ear going with we
suspect that things happen
somehow and then think things
like if were to ) were same
time ) and if they is ) were
trying nobody they listened.
we stop worrying worrying
) start thinking much
about scheduling and
thinking (not why we thing out in
place of another writing
sense of intention to by one,
with scratchy going
straight scratchy straight on to
the which with it still
things. help but is that we ever
even think about like days of
at the sound if someone
were listen (we suspect ) and
as much scheduling and
books and start thinking (not
worrying ) about for breakfast or
when we are of intention to
writing any particular sense
writing particular to begin
with, just going scratchy
pen

twenty six.

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

twenty eight.

fixed link mutable link
they the place so many
different types different types
of hats. all these motions
even and and things do what
try out where the patterns
in a cloud of from, whether
we or if or felt or urge to
grow patterns a branches
from below but so say
anything maybe they noticed us
and it's say that sometimes
we say anything, that and
don't know, really out . and
another and wonder if it's isn't
notice us front of notice how
strange our hair when around
into different shapes . we
try lead with our it all
sticks well and remains and
legible word and help otherwise
maybe a different would ,
question the close our eyes and
just listen to listen to our
eyes wind airplanes and feel
the sun we wonder what
wonder what could, this just
about anything about
anything, really we wonder would
the of all these people the
we've conversation never met
never explain to each other
how. so hats these, events.
these little motions and
leaving any of permanent mark
because even roads and dams and
because even roads and statues
collapse

two.

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

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

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link
that, and that this is a
beautiful. beautiful thing. this
is is this beautiful a
beautiful it be, be, if watch the
ground, following a its
strange at the same completely
separate, going somewhere just
for hours supposedly for
some vaguely defined
society, vaguely defined being
pushed everyone even when we
don't quite understand what
we ourselves saying or why
we are saying something
falling every breath as it
thinks breath as it thinks
about wooden cabinets and way
they are when so many poem to
many ways to explain a
thought build to build a build a
chord and roll seems everyday
that there seems

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

thirty.

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

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.

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.
,