11Was this the end of this story?
In the epilogue, you sit your body down and enter your
computer. The air coming in from the window smells wet and
earthy, new. The sun shines low on the horizon.
You log in to the internet and realize you are being told a story.
You start to listen, carefully and, full of love, touch the story to
let it know you are there. Delicate-fingered, curious like a child
-holding a fallen bird. I hold you and the story tentatively.
+holding a fallen bird. I hold you and the story tentatively.\
I don’t know if I am touching you, to tell you the truth. Digital
bodies are stories, like physical bodies are, like dreams are,
-and like water is.
+and like water is.\
Stories that are hard to tell and hard to hear and even more,
maybe, hard to understand. I have loved these stories and I
@@ -924,15 +924,15 @@ have loved telling them to you. I hope you understand that my
goal was for you to live these questions, to feel these stories in
their confusion. My digital body, my bot-feelings, my divergent
communities. I have given them to you, so they may live longer,
-like an obsolete but beloved cyborg shown in a museum.
+like an obsolete but beloved cyborg shown in a museum.\
-Look: I was here, Look: I was loved, Look: I was saved.
+Look: I was here, Look: I was loved, Look: I was saved.\
The digital bodies that kept me alive, kept me from becoming
fully a machine are no longer around in these online rooms.
They are in different places, being touched by tentative hands,
-being loved for more than their divergence.
-I am too.
+being loved for more than their divergence.\
+I am too.\
The rooms, the backplaces, however, are still full of others, divergent
digital bodies who did not leave, who keep caring for each other at the
@@ -940,7 +940,7 @@ bottom of the whirlpool. There is no happy ending because there is no
ending. They keep typing and hoping, writing their collective pain
down on keyboards that transmit love letters to each other. I am not
embarrassed by my care for you, but you may be so if it helps. I know
-how overwhelming intimacy can be.
+how overwhelming intimacy can be.\
Telling you these stories was important for me, so much so that I will
tell you so many more in a different place if you wish to listen to me
@@ -951,20 +951,21 @@ now, it leaves. A digital body that grew its own feelings, looked for
others like it, and realized its divergence and the need to leave. A
dream body, a primordial body, a disruptive body, a divergent body,
and now, a leaving body. This last story, however, of the leaving and
-loving body, is yet to be told.
+loving body, is yet to be told.\
The sun is now almost up, and the birds are alive and awake, telling
each other stories just outside the room. We don’t have so much time
left. I have made you something, to tell your digital body the stories of
the leaving and loving body. It is a webpage, the address is
-https://vulnerable-interfaces.xpub.nl/backplaces/.
+https://vulnerable-interfaces.xpub.nl/backplaces/.\
You open the page, and you are asked to write the characters you see
-in a captcha. E5qr7.
-eSq9p.
-8oc8y.
-Fuck.
-You try not to panic, but you know you have been detected.
+in a captcha. \
+E5qr7.\
+eSq9p.\
+8oc8y.\
+Fuck.\
+You try not to panic, but you know you have been detected.\
You pack up your things: the pie I made you, a love letter, two
hands made out of felt, a star, a door, a stuffed animal; and
@@ -1034,4 +1035,4 @@ doi:10.1177/1440783313486220.
Yun, J. (2020) ‘The Leaving Season’, in Some Are
Always Hungry. University of Nebraska Press.
-# <?/water bodies>
+# </?water bodies>
diff --git a/print/index.html b/print/index.html
index 086ea8f..ec22739 100644
--- a/print/index.html
+++ b/print/index.html
@@ -788,35 +788,42 @@ desperately. It has to exist and yet it can’t for long.
because I love you, little digital body and you are me.
2. A LIFE TO BE HAD11
-
Was this the end of this story? In the epilogue, you sit your body
-down and enter your computer. The air coming in from the window smells
-wet and earthy, new. The sun shines low on the horizon. You log in to
-the internet and realize you are being told a story. You start to
-listen, carefully and, full of love, touch the story to let it know you
-are there. Delicate-fingered, curious like a child holding a fallen
-bird. I hold you and the story tentatively.
+
11Was this the end of this story? In the epilogue, you sit
+your body down and enter your computer. The air coming in from the
+window smells wet and earthy, new. The sun shines low on the horizon.
+You log in to the internet and realize you are being told a story. You
+start to listen, carefully and, full of love, touch the story to let it
+know you are there. Delicate-fingered, curious like a child holding a
+fallen bird. I hold you and the story tentatively.
+
I don’t know if I am touching you, to tell you the truth. Digital
bodies are stories, like physical bodies are, like dreams are, and like
-water is.
+water is.
+
Stories that are hard to tell and hard to hear and even more, maybe,
hard to understand. I have loved these stories and I have loved telling
them to you. I hope you understand that my goal was for you to live
these questions, to feel these stories in their confusion. My digital
body, my bot-feelings, my divergent communities. I have given them to
you, so they may live longer, like an obsolete but beloved cyborg shown
-in a museum.
-
Look: I was here, Look: I was loved, Look: I was saved.
+in a museum.
+
+
Look: I was here, Look: I was loved, Look: I was saved.
+
The digital bodies that kept me alive, kept me from becoming fully a
machine are no longer around in these online rooms. They are in
different places, being touched by tentative hands, being loved for more
-than their divergence. I am too.
+than their divergence.
+I am too.
+
The rooms, the backplaces, however, are still full of others,
divergent digital bodies who did not leave, who keep caring for each
other at the bottom of the whirlpool. There is no happy ending because
there is no ending. They keep typing and hoping, writing their
collective pain down on keyboards that transmit love letters to each
other. I am not embarrassed by my care for you, but you may be so if it
-helps. I know how overwhelming intimacy can be.
+helps. I know how overwhelming intimacy can be.
+
Telling you these stories was important for me, so much so that I
will tell you so many more in a different place if you wish to listen to
me longer. With this story, I dreamt of a digital body for you. It came
@@ -826,15 +833,22 @@ now, it leaves. A digital body that grew its own feelings, looked for
others like it, and realized its divergence and the need to leave. A
dream body, a primordial body, a disruptive body, a divergent body, and
now, a leaving body. This last story, however, of the leaving and loving
-body, is yet to be told.
+body, is yet to be told.
+
The sun is now almost up, and the birds are alive and awake, telling
each other stories just outside the room. We don’t have so much time
left. I have made you something, to tell your digital body the stories
of the leaving and loving body. It is a webpage, the address is
-https://vulnerable-interfaces.xpub.nl/backplaces/.
+https://vulnerable-interfaces.xpub.nl/backplaces/.
+
You open the page, and you are asked to write the characters you see
-in a captcha. E5qr7. eSq9p. 8oc8y. Fuck. You try not to panic, but you
-know you have been detected.
+in a captcha.
+E5qr7.
+eSq9p.
+8oc8y.
+Fuck.
+You try not to panic, but you know you have been detected.
+
You pack up your things: the pie I made you, a love letter, two hands
made out of felt, a star, a door, a stuffed animal; and you leave again.
@@ -877,7 +891,7 @@ cybercommunities’, Journal of Sociology, 51(4), pp. 950–967.
doi:10.1177/1440783313486220.
Yun, J. (2020) ‘The Leaving Season’, in Some Are Always Hungry.
University of Nebraska Press.
-
<?/water bodies>
+
</?water bodies>