update from sparkleup

writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/discernment.md

@@ -88,19 +88,19 @@ Instead, he let his bag slip from his shoulder to the grass, and then he settled
 
 His head was too full. Too full of words and feelings that language failed to express. Lines from the epistles he'd been studying somehow wound up tangled with an awkwardly-shaped despair, a despair founded in the fact that, although he continued to excel in his studies, remained at the top of his classes, he still felt as though he was failing.
 
-*If I still feel you within my heart,* he asked. *Where are these feelings coming from? What is this disillusionment pointing to?*
+*If you still dwell within my heart,* he asked. *Where are these feelings coming from? What is this disillusionment pointing to?*
 
 <!-- walks to Kateri statue -->
 
 God spoke to him, then. As ever, His voice was not in words, but woven into the world around him. A breeze came up from Stump lake, bearing with it the sent of water, of rotting vegetation, and overlaid atop it, a sweetness he could not place. It was floral, yes, but also fruity, so sweet as to make his mouth water.
 
-He bristled his whiskers, and breathed in deeply, his eyes scanning trees lit by the occasional yellow sulfur lamp, stark battlements against the night sky. God spoke to him in the way his eyes perceived the night to fade from a blue-tinged gray at the tree-line up to the star-stained black above him. He spoke in the feeling of the short blades of grass poking up through the bristly fur of his tail, and He spoke in the citrus tang of a confession forming in his mouth.
+He bristled his whiskers, and breathed in deeply, his eyes scanning trees lit by the occasional yellow sulfur lamp, stark battlements against the night sky. God spoke to him in the way his eyes perceived the night to fade from a blue-tinged gray at the tree-line up to the star-stained black above him. He spoke in the feeling of the short blades of grass poking up through the bristly fur of his tail, and He spoke in the citrus tang of a confession forming in Dee's mouth.
 
 "I don't want to be here."
 
 -----
 
-"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confessional, and I accuse myself...I accuse..."
+"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession, and I accuse myself...I accuse..."
 
 Other than the soft sounds of breathing and the barest hint of vulpine beneath the scent-block, nothing made its way from the other side of the screen.
 
@@ -136,7 +136,6 @@ With the final *go in peace* still ringing in his ears, with the tips of his fin
 
 Outside Dee walked slowly to one of the concrete blocks that served as benches and sat, resting his face in his paws. If he could not see the stars, if he had only concrete and paving stones before him, then if he wanted to pray, he had to block out his sight. It was all too much. He would find himself tracing the paving stones, or the catenary arc of the contemporary entrance to St. John's.
 
-<!-- Psalm 130 -->
 *Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice! Let yours ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications...*
 <!-- Continue, expand with him praying as he thinks -->
 
@@ -144,7 +143,7 @@ He was not ready yet. Not ready for his penitential *patres nostri*. Not ready t
 
 *...If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand? But there is forgiveness with you so that you may be revered...*
 
-He didn't even feel ready for this prayer, for this call out to God? What iniquities faced him? He was privileged to be able to attend such a school as this. He was loved by God and the church. He was lucky to have been born with a mind so expansive, a body so healthy.
+He didn't even feel ready for this prayer, for this call out to God. What iniquities faced him? He was privileged to be able to attend such a school as this. He was loved by God and the church. He was lucky to have been born with a mind so expansive, a body so healthy.
 
 Perhaps the iniquities were within.
 
@@ -168,7 +167,7 @@ He envied, as always, the Jewish tradition, that eternal argument about who God
 
 But Catholicism only offered him so much leeway, and this school even less.
 
-"I don't want to be here," he confessed to the statue, then sighed and knelt. "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."
+"I don't want to be here," he confessed to the statue, then sighed and knelt. "Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."
 
 -----