update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/idumea/004.md

@@ -140,4 +140,22 @@ And so The Woman went inside and lay down and let The Aesthetician work through
 
 The Woman left refreshed, renewed, reinvigorated, and with this eye she set to looking into the escalation that she promised Her Friend.
 
-We have seen such success already, have we not? We have seen the ways in which The Woman — she who does not have many friends — 
+We have seen such success already, have we not? We have seen the ways in which The Woman — she who does not have many friends — enjoys the touch of hugs or a paw rested atop hers. It is a sometimes food, yes? But then, it is for all of us. I do not always want to be hugged or touched — I do not now, here on the edge of overflow — and there are forms of touch I do not like at all! The woman here is considering intimacy, yes? Sensuality and sexuality? Those are not things that I do not like. I like *that* they exist, I am glad that they do, and I even like writing about them — see, here! I am even about to do so! — but they are things that I hold at a distance from myself.
+
+Ah, but my words are wandering. This touch, even the grooming, is a sometimes food for The Woman, and yet she had held herself at such a distance from such for who knows what reason. I do not think she knew, herself, my friends, for she is as we all are. She is a woman who craves touch and deserves touch and does not, on an intellectual level, wish that she were not touched. It is emotional, perhaps, or psychic, or spiritual, or on some other level than the intellectual desire to touch and be touched, or the physical need for fulfillment.
+
+And so it was that The Woman began her slow climb up the ladder of escalation. She met once more with Her Friend and asked, kindly, perhaps a bit nervously, for a hug and for the chance to hold hands and paws — for she was a human that day, and Her Friend a skunk as ever — and well it took something of a force of will to let such touch linger, it was a pleasant sensation and a pleasant conversation that followed, an exploration — between friends, for Her Friend was always careful to specifically *not* be The Woman's therapist — of meanings and boundaries.
+
+And so it was that The Woman sought out those who she knew, those who might have some affection for her beyond simple conversational friendship, those who had been sensual of old, partners and almost-partners from centuries ago who remained still on the System. She thought back through the years and years and years, and Her Lover was the one who leapt most readily to mind.
+
+*"My dear, it has been some time since we have spoken,"* she sent over a sensorium message. *"For which I do apologize, much of that is on me. I did wish to reconnect, though; would you be amenable to that?"*
+
+The response was immediate. *"End Of Endings! Oh my god! You have no idea how happy I am to hear from you! I heard there were losses in your clade and was so worried I didn't even want to check if one of them was you."*
+
+*"Not me, no. Should We Forget and No Longer Myself are no more, though."*
+
+There was a long moment silence on the other end of the connection, though the sense of it lingering remained. *"I am sorry, love,"* Her Lover said at last. *"I haven't forgotten you, though, or my fondness, so yeah, I'd love to reconnect."*
+
+If my more recently uploaded friends feel some sense of curiosity about how it is that someone with whom one has let contact language for decades might still feel fondness after so long, or how one might not forget, you must remember that those who live sys-side remain functionally immortal. If one leans into such a fact, then decades spent away may as well be a blink of an eye, yes? If one leans into the everlasting memory with which we are blessed or cursed or which is simply bestowed upon us without further thought, then a past lover away from whom one has simply drifted amicably is just as easily recalled.
+
+

writing/post-self/idumea/index.md

@@ -55,7 +55,7 @@ End Of Endings — 2403 / Rye — 2409
 * [o] [002](002) --- The Woman runs into Her Friend, who is having a very bad day, and shares her idea / Saving Geppetto — 3292
 * [o] [003](003) --- The Woman sees why Her Friend was having a bad day (seventh only ever says talk to a therapist rather than offering friendship, tenth does the same sometimes, narrator starts to peek through), has a similar bad day / Swallowed by the big fish — 4080
 * [.] [004](004) --- The Woman aims for greater pleasure to try and re-ground herself, narrator questions pleasure vs productivity, and what of joy / Pleasure Island
-* [ ] [005](005) --- The Woman tries being creative with Her Friend to create meaning, narrator really showing through by now / Puppet show to prove no strings/earn money for Geppetto
+* [ ] [005](005) --- The Woman tries being creative (writing with Rye, painting with Motes, acting, music) to create meaning, narrator really showing through by now / Puppet show to prove no strings/earn money for Geppetto
 * [ ] [006](006) --- The Woman muses on the clade and her past, the ways she was taken advantage of, the attack, narrator talking about obsessions and balance /  Honest John and Gideon the cat
 * [ ] [007](007) --- The Woman begins to earnestly wish for an escape from the cycle, and Her Friend has feelings, narrator talking about urges to quit (both storytelling and suicide) / Comes to life after a wish
 * [.] [008](008) --- The Woman talks with Dry Grass with her idea, who mentions Serene, they talk and she turns into a tree on a sidewalk in the city sim, unclear if she quits, the narrator struggles with how they feel about this, modern vs postmodern, earnest vs ironic, subversion vs playing straight, living vs not, devolves into repeated phrases as Rye overflows / Carved from wood