update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/idumea/005.md

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+## End Of Endings — 2403<br>×<br>Rye — 2409
+
+Some of my readers may be wondering why it is that I know so much about The Woman. "How does she know all of this?" some might be wondering. "Does she really know all these things that The Woman did? Does she know who the kindly shop owner is? The one who pet on The Woman as she sobbed from too spicy a chili?" Others might be wondering — and rightly so! — "How much of this is actually real? Surely she does not know The Woman's innermost thoughts! All this talk of ideas in shapes being set before her is quite silly."
+
+My answer is that tired phrase: "It is complicated." Of course I do not know her innermost thoughts. I think it is a me thing to take abstract ideas and pretend they look like pretty baubles or hot coals or little statuettes to be placed upon a dresser. I cannot read minds, and I do not have any memories from The Woman. I do not even know quite what she is anymore! I would not know if she quit, since I am not down-tree from her — her down-tree instance is dead now, these last six decades, remember — and I do not believe she merged cross-tree with anyone except perhaps Ashes Denote That Fire Was, who is building in themself a gestalt of the clade as best they can. No, I do not know anything so intimate.
+
+What I do have, though, is a story. I have the story I learned from The Woman's Friend and Therapist and Cocladist and Lover, the one I learned from The Blue Fairy and The Child and The Musician and My Friend. I have all of that story that I learned, and I have that story that I lived.
+
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+
+One day — I remember it being quite a warm one, though every sim has different weather, and we as a clade are not all that keen on cold — one day, The Woman came to me.