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@ -168,12 +168,8 @@ alt="Photo by Leslie Robbins" />
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<!--<section id="section-4" class="section">-->
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<section id="section-4" class="section">
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<h1 id="water-bodies"><?water bodies></h1>
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<<<<<<< HEAD
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<h3 id="a-narrative-exploration-of-divergent-digital-intimacies">A narrative exploration of <br>divergent digital intimacies</h3>
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=======
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<h3 id="a-narrative-exploration-of-divergent-digital-intimacies">A
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narrative exploration of <br>divergent digital intimacies</h3>
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>>>>>>> 0d34f2967a266c03a36514751c02bce2519f810f
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<hr />
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<blockquote>
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<p>Water, stories, the body,<br />
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@ -925,12 +921,14 @@ desperately. It has to exist and yet it can’t for long.</p>
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because I love you, little digital body and you are me.</p>
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<h2 id="a-life-to-be-had11">2. A LIFE TO BE HAD<sup>11</sup></h2>
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<div class="fake-margin-note">
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<p><sup>11</sup> Was this the end of this story? In the epilogue, you
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sit your body down and enter your computer. The air coming in from the
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window smells wet and earthy, new. The sun shines low on the horizon.
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You log in to the internet and realize you are being told a story. You
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start to listen, carefully and, full of love, touch the story to let it
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know you are there. Delicate-fingered, curious like a child holding a
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<p><sup>11 </sup> Was this the end of this story?<br />
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In the epilogue, you sit your body down and enter your computer. The air
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coming in from the window smells wet and earthy, new. The sun shines low
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on the horizon.<br />
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</p>
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<p>You log in to the internet and realize you are being told a story.
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You start to listen, carefully and, full of love, touch the story to let
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it know you are there. Delicate-fingered, curious like a child holding a
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fallen bird. I hold you and the story tentatively.<br />
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</p>
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<p>I don’t know if I am touching you, to tell you the truth. Digital
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@ -986,8 +984,8 @@ eSq9p.<br />
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Fuck.<br />
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You try not to panic, but you know you have been detected.<br />
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</p>
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You pack up your things: the pie I made you, a love letter, two hands
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made out of felt, a star, a door, a stuffed animal; and you leave again.
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You pack up your things: the pie I made you, a love letter, a hand made
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out of felt, a star, a door, a stuffed animal; and you leave again.
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</div>
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<h2 id="thank-you">THANK YOU</h2>
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<p>Special thanks to Marloes de Valk, Michael Murtaugh, Manetta Berends,
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@ -1040,7 +1038,6 @@ doi:10.1177/1440783313486220.</p>
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<p>Yun, J. (2020) ‘The Leaving Season’, in Some Are Always Hungry.
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University of Nebraska Press.</p>
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<h1 id="water-bodies-1"></?water bodies></h1>
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>>>>>>> 0d34f2967a266c03a36514751c02bce2519f810f
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</section>
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