Jowin Lee

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Our lives had diverged and gone in different directions, and we hadn’t seen each other for so long. Perhaps we would lose touch again soon. It was possible that this moment was its own kind of liminal space, and the thought made me feel sad. The idea that our lives are all separate journeys, and that we just intersect occasionally in places a step aside from them, before carrying on again in our different directions.
The Man Made of Smoke
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