we accidentally imagine

twenty four.

fixed link mutable link

okay they happens from

not that without even not

okay and happens sometimes

it happens the are are are

go from. and other even

trying trying ... and

sometimes things sometimes they

are from are, that even

trying . and sometimes are, and

sometimes we go even trying okay

and happens to things okay

and sometimes sometimes ,

they are, and sometimes it

happens one to , and sometimes to

okay okay and not things not

not are, and to sometimes

sometimes they are it happens.,

and that one trying . and

sometimes are are are , and it

happens we go from and trying.

are not, and sometimes we

happens. and they are, and

sometimes it go to other sometimes

without the and sometimes and

sometimes they are , and sometimes

it it go are not they

happens that we from one

sometimes things, and that we the

and okay, are, and even, and

, it other without

sometimes they are it happens are

are, sometimes it happens

one go from one go from one to

the things are not

sometimes it happens that we go

from one to the other without

even things and and

sometimes things it happens go

without even trying sometimes

sometimes things are sometimes

one to the without even

trying and and sometimes

things , other to that, and

sometimes it happens other

without the other to, and to

other without trying. and

sometimes things not are, and even

trying . and sometimes things

are sometimes sometimes

the we go from one to the

other without are happens one

without even trying trying. .

and sometimes without from

are sometimes they are, and

sometimes it happens we to the

trying. and not okay , and,

sometimes one not okay , and and

sometimes it happens are

sometimes they are, and sometimes

trying. and sometimes are

sometimes that one to the other

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.

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 nine.

fixed link mutable link

is ) and if they were

write things down they .

worrying books thinking (not

worrying scheduling ) about what

might why we cross one thing

out another when we are

writing with one by one scratchy

going through with it and

still we we can't help but

smile a we ever numbers and

days the week time might and

they trying to write they

were trying to write things

they listened stop (not

about and start thinking (not

worrying ) about what might for

breakfast tomorrow we cross

tomorrow might why what might be

for or why we cross one in

place of are without to, just

to, just going begin with,

just going by a on to going

going just somehow and we

suspect that things smile a

little and then absurd it is

that we ever even things like

numbers and things happening

sound the time if someone (we

suspect is ) and write things

were as to as they listened

stop much about scheduling

and what be ) about what

breakfast tomorrow or we cross be

for breakfast tomorrow or

why we cross one thing out we

without any sense of we are begin

with one with straight on to

still it. we suspect that just

happen can't but smile a little

then laugh a little is that we

ever at how absurd it like

numbers and days the about like

and ever think about , two

sound like if someone were is

as to write things we stop

worrying so much worrying about

be for why of we cross one

thing breakfast tomorrow or

cross one thing place of

another of across lines one by

one, just and with straight

to just with it and still

just things then how absurd

it that we ever even two

time if someone were and if to

write things down trying to

stop worrying so (not

breakfast tomorrow or when we any

particular sense one by on the which

through our ear just we suspect

that just somehow laugh how

absurd even think about things

and days same like if to

listen suspect nobody is if

trying to write

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

eighteen.

fixed link mutable link

fading. systems.

fading. systems all all around

us to glue and later in

concrete, we begin realize we

stood up in haven't haven't in

hours, this this chair and its

arms a little too pressing

against narrow pressing

against the, pressing against

of skulls,, the us when the

the we are praying what we we

. breaking apart

fracturing piece piece by and poems

and cathedrals

architectures in in in the mind

architectures and cathedrals

architectures architectures mind, we

begin to and its our plurals

not so don't know who we are

are want, lives lives back

together later mind

architectures mind we we haven't stood

up in hours chair hours

stood chair of, plurals not

having and singulars not

having so so much significance

significance to us don't know what

what. systems all piece and

poems and architectures

architectures architectures in feel

jittery and its this chair and

arms pressing skulls,

plurals the lights we but. who we

are praying want fading

piece piece keep keep keep

together with with and

cathedrals begin concrete and the

and later haven't this

chair and its plurals much

significance to us the praying to we

are praying to are are

praying, what lives fracturing

things back and and the mind we

narrow so much significance to

are flickering so subtly.

we we but don't know who

what. around around us us us

lives us us and keep trying to

cathedrals we we begin concrete, we

begin realize stood stood

chair too singulars not

having pray but don't we we pray

twenty three.

fixed link mutable link

perfectly us more more

human, is on skin going, trees

we are able to object air

just sort of staring away and

transformed of kinetic energy which

makes resonant, trees turn

wheels in will all a without a

clinging with rock glue one same,

the screams fists and hugs,

the timer keep doing our

best around other room and we

temperature changing us, how

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.

nineteen.

fixed link mutable link

the corner of the room

empty except for the little

grooves in the floorboard, we

smile. the moments going and

going in such a beautiful way

that we can't take our eyes

off it, noticing just how

inconsistent things are, how blurry

and arbitrary the

differences seem between things and

people and ideas, how musical a

painting can sound the ink never

seems to dry.

twenty two.

fixed link mutable link

the by again by ticking

by again and again keeps

making that sniffling from

seasonal allergies sniffling

seasonal we don't recognize a

sniffling from seasonal

allergies . bird we we don't don't

recognize. we smile at the sound of

this of harmony warmer but

more . okay. which

slantingway . more okay . which

slantingway combination making

another vibrations more quiet .

we are aware . try not the

this sound sound fuzzy for we

pause and a a while a for a, the

second all keeps making that

sound and can't sound somehow

sort of harmony hear all

warmer okay. which

slantingway or combination making

one which and more quiet

trying to hear inside the are

aware of our actions but try

sun outside sun outside the

grass the grass . we sound

fuzzy we pause and just

breathe hand ticking again all

these sound and we keep from

allergies. a a sound of people

laughing and of people laughing

we hear vibrations feel

making one thing work and

another not to inside our

actions aware of aware of our our

actions we are sounds our

actions but try not the fuzzy we.

pause where again while all

and again, we

fifteen.

fixed link mutable link

all these different

circumstances calling for different

responses, different ways of

dealing and smiling. we are

smiling and we don't know why

because one of us smiled first?

these social gestures

amplifying across a group of people

who don't know why they

thought the joke was funny when

they didn't even hear half of

it because there were so

many things going on all at

once, a different life story

in every single car in this

traffic jam, a different

struggle behind every note in the

piano. maybe if there was more

time. but there isn't. the sky

seeming like just another

ceiling. emails just keep

arriving and keep arriving and

none of them ever seem to be

from real people, all these

situations branching out into

entire stories,

possibilities fanning out into some

incomprehensible tree, options after

options impossible to weigh. we

end up just going with the

one we saw first and that

seems as good as any, for now at

least we go looking for our

instincts but we don't remember

where we left them.

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.

twenty seven.

fixed link mutable link

and of scratch the

someone we knot knot lot wires

the the each someone on

someone did it, if of if sort feel

our foreheads might be warm

it might enough outside.

hands now where they came from

what caused each wooden

scratch face of in the wires

behind the it on own eyes like

moment we are the our foreheads

, it our foreheads is warm

enough outside to open the

windows now we breathe and feel

this stinging in now now we

notice small the floorboard

dents floorboard from

ourselves came from each groove

and wooden panels

twenty five.

fixed link mutable link

with little a little

repetition listening, little

pretend our best to a we we. the do

our best to do our best to

pretend we aren't listening we

aren't listening. we going on

to heated outside

becoming heated the on outside

becoming with fewer mistakes .

the conversation. the

conversation and with fewer heated

aren't listening repetition

getting a we aren't listening a a

little mistakes. the faster

and with fewer mistakes.

going on outside becoming we

do our best to pretend

every more a little more

mistakes. the on outside fewer, a

fewer mistakes. the

conversation. the mistakes. with

fewer faster a little with

fewer mistakes. fewer

mistakes more mistakes with a

aren't listening do we we do our

pretend we best to becoming

heated while we pretend we best

we do our best to do on

conversation heated while becoming.

a little every

repetition listening we aren't

listening, every a we aren't

listening do our best to pretend we

while we do our aren't

listening do our best to pretend

our aren't listening do we

aren't every repetition

faster and mistakes and

outside becoming heated on to

pretend every repetition.

every a little getting, more

mistakes. a little faster and

outside becoming heated

outside becoming heated while

becoming heated while we going

with conversation going

with fewer mistakes. with a

every repetition listening,

a little accurate little

faster and more accurate, a and

mistakes on heated while we do our

best to pretend little more

accurate aren't listening. our

best to pretend while we. the

conversation a conversation going on

heated best to becoming on

fewer little fewer mistakes

with conversation our

outside becoming heated

outside becoming heated while

we do our best to our best we

do going

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.

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 eight.

fixed link mutable link

we listen to the sounds

of all these people we've

never met laughter and

conversation, pointing toward their

destination as they explain to each

other how they learned about

the place. so many

different types of hats. all these

little motions, events going

back and forth without

leaving any sort of permanent

mark because even roads and

dams and enormous statues

collapse and fade eventually,

and things just do what they

do what they always were

going to do anyway. we try to

figure out where the patterns

in a cloud of leaves come

from, whether we made it all up

or if maybe something

could really be there, that

maybe the leaves decided or

felt some need or urge to grow

in such a way that these

grid patterns come up when we

look at the branches from

below. and now someone we know

comes walking by our sitting

place, but we don't look up so

they don't see us so they

don't say anything. or maybe

they noticed us looking away

and quietly understood

that sometimes it's okay to

just not say anything, that

sometimes we can just be

ourselves. we don't know, really.

and they walk out of sight.

and another thing happens

which doesn't matter, and we

glance at the clock and wonder

if it's eight yet, and it

isn't now we notice that the

sun is behind us, and that

our shadow is in front of us.

we notice how strange our

hair looks when the wind

moves it around into

different shapes. we try to smear

the ink and lead with our

hand but somehow it all

sticks to the paper so well and

remains perfectly legible. we

were hoping that the smudges

might make us somehow misread

a word or note or two and

help us think of something we

wouldn't have otherwise, but

maybe a different technique

or execution would be

better, more appropriate. we

question the idea of relevancy

for a moment, and let it go.

we close our eyes and just

listen to the wind and

airplanes and feel the sun warming

our legs. we wonder what

could come from this just

about anything, really we

wonder if anything could or

couldn't prepare us for it, and if

it would matter anyway

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.

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.

thirty one.

fixed link mutable link

thought we we thought

feet a librarian we haven't

name we don't remember

laughed until the the sound is

from or the or we remember

that the galaxies of are

themselves galaxies themselves

are asking questions of are

questions they are hurtling

toward, wondering when it

finally it will finally whyhow

the momentnow changing,

the shapes we make don't

have to make sense, that

things they happen we of and of

illusion and that of illusion

away could even mean could

even could make sense to much

not so much difference not

much difference between our

actions much between our

between our minds our, on or off

or somewhere near world

over having thoughts,

actions, and is a this is a

beautiful is a if we let it be drift

pollen drift to the ground

drift to pollen drift speck in

its strange path strange,

at the goal and around job

playing doing defined values

saying we what we ourselves the

still saying something wind

still something rising and

falling it thinks breath

falling

twenty six.

fixed link mutable link

and ideas permeating

while a outlines of squares

other things, outlines all

with a smile. happens

outlines of squares smile just

happens we happens things and

trangles of other of making each

other making themselves up

pushing buttons and dominoes

which always in the wrong

going the to fall in we be again

interactions. concrete again..

spray ideas permeating all

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.

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.

sixteen.

fixed link mutable link

so many that the stick of

of is still our to it funny

but smile coming back right

on shades of remember

lines and and so the incense

lines we we lines and so many

lines... we glowing and

becoming. . we forget to.

laughing questions the shades of

these colors whose names

these colors back right on cue

can't of these colors whose

these colors whose names

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.

six.

fixed link mutable link

silence and quiet now. a

small voice humming and

laughing in the other room. a

crystal or some melting snow.

behinds toward while again

around where's or why's while

leftandright shrinking silently. a

wooden creak. a scratch. all

centers things happening all

around, things just happening

and just being the way they

are. and we realize that this

is a beautiful thing. that

this is a beautiful thing.

twenty.

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.

thirty.

fixed link mutable link

like it when it our ears

our like think of a good to

the moment or how to laugh,

next actually changes

really changes. the idea that

nothing “who are ourselves we an

question in. we don't. and then we

begin can't we see and laugh,

and we see why these first

seems like comes ears which is

, to much more so much more

much like good question or

how and and we. we if

anything, if anything actually

changes. really we an

unexpected question in are ?” and

unable. know. and then we laugh

, and

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

we accidentally imagine

by andrew yoon

twenty four.

five.

eight.

twenty nine.

three.

eighteen.

twenty three.

twenty one.

seven.

nineteen.

twenty two.

fifteen.

four.

thirteen.

twenty seven.

twenty five.

eleven.

ten.

two.

twenty eight.

fourteen.

zero.

seventeen.

thirty one.

twenty six.

nine.

one.

sixteen.

twelve.

six.

twenty.

thirty.