update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/idumea/007.md

@@ -103,7 +103,6 @@ The Woman had her own ritual of grief to perform, though, and this did not call
 <!-- The Dog and The Rabbit-Chaser gives her the idea when she goes to visit Motes to ask about change -->
 \label{thedog}
 
-<!--Placeholder until edits-->
 The Woman sat down on the floor by The Dog. She knew he was a cladist, for cladists come in many shapes — did she not also appear as a skunk? And a panther? And now, here, she was a human! — and so hoped he might have insight into unbecoming. This, after all, was the purpose of her visit to Le Rêve, the neighborhood of the fifth stanza, that of The Poet and The Musician and My Friend, and also The Child. It was The Child who was her goal, you see. She wished to speak with those who had changed, who had pushed themselves into new molds, who had become something new, that they might no longer be what had once drove them. Stillness lay in choice — that was the thought she held onto — that is the thought that I wish I could believe; would that I could choose to be still! Would that I could choose silence and images instead of yet more words.
 
 The Dog had attached himself to Au Lieu Du Rêve, to the theatre troupe and to the fifth stanza, to His Skunks, some time ago. He spent many lazy days among them, many evenings dozing by the kettlecorn stand in the theater lobby in the hopes of someone dropping their snacks, many frantic minutes carrying The Child's latest core dump to the resident systech after she yet again in a bout of play had crashed.