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Are.na
Anca Bunescu
words from my worlds
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oh well. sometimes people come into your life, and they just keep their promises.

the beauty of are.na lies in coming across thousands of beautiful things, and then, one day, reading or seeing something very familiar. your brain quietly tells you: i remember, i remember. but you don‘t really do, so you don’t believe your brain, and click the connect button, only to find out it was something you have already saved, and it was there, all along, in your treasured channels.

it‘s nice how pieces of information travel across this platform. the way they resurface, every other month or every other few weeks. or, who knowns, every other year, maybe.
even though you have almost completely forgotten about them, there is a place that will forever remind you. isn‘t this beautiful?

grateful

the curse of the immigrant: it’s so much of me that i can’t translate

internet as a communal effort.

love

love

love

good-bye, their lips whisper in the night.

it’s the same lips that taste like lovers like friends like strangers like rum like things that will never ever be said once again.

they’re wearing smiles on their faces.

on one of them, the smile is sad (you cannot tell). as for the other, no one knows.

the bodies feel strange, too.

they feel the usual force pulling them together, and out of nowhere comes a stronger one, pulling them apart. it’s the power of will.

the bodies feel confused.

they take a step towards each other.

pause.

arms feel uncomfortable, as if they want to move, to reach the other arms.

they don’t.

two bodies in front of each other, not knowing how to behave.

revisiting an old self made of words and pixels.

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