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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2020-05-08 01:15:03 -07:00
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writing/post-self/qoheleth/Sasha/003.md
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@ -81,13 +81,15 @@ But at least she was no longer out of focus.
*Was this what the lost were going through?* She brushed her hand/paw through her hair/over her ears. *Or perhaps it is merely a furry thing, primed as we are to have an internal representation so different from our external?*
"Oh AwDae," she moaned. "Oh fox. How long have you been suffering so?"
"Oh AwDae," she moaned. "Oh fox. How long have you been suffering?"
She stood/she stood.
Poetry coursed through her, half remembered/perfectly memorized. "Since then --- 'tis centuries --- and yet feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horse's heads were toward eternity ---"
Poetry coursed through her, half remembered/perfectly memorized lines from productions long past. "Since then --- 'tis centuries --- and yet feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horse's heads were toward eternity ---"
It had been centuries for her, and yet each felt shorter than the crash to the ground from out of the perilous heights of reality.
It had been centuries for her, and yet each felt shorter than the crash to the ground from out of the perilous heights of reality. Time felt so vast that were it not for an Eternity...
Time, which beat against the skies. Time, which hemmed her in. Time, which forced words from her mouth/from her muzzle in breathless haste/unwavering slowness. "I fear me this circumference engross my finity --- to his exclusion who prepare by process of size for the stupendous vision of his diameters ---"
"Oh fox."