Her journals had become the place she recorded all her stories of affect, of impossible closeness, of emotion. None of that language would be acceptable for a peer-reviewed scientific publication, though, and the drafts she typed up for the cloud drive leaned toward the cleanly clinical. What language could communicate the longing for a future she’d felt without stooping to anthropomorphizing—or, without giving the appearance of having done so to a derisive colleague? Bringing standpoint into an otherwise quantitative project was one thing, but it was another to be too free with her emotions
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