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update from sparkleup

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Madison Rye Progress 2024-07-12 14:17:31 -07:00
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writing/post-self/idumea/full.md
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@ -100,7 +100,7 @@ But Should We Forget was no longer alive, not since the world had turned in on i
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When Michelle who was Sasha had quit, out on a field so similar to the one that she lived on, The Woman breathed a sigh of relief, because she knew — though I do not think she know how — that Michelle who was Sasha had found her own relief in those last moments. She had looked up to the sky, up to our poet, up to The Dreamer who dreamed the world in which they lived, and in those moments she knew relief. She knew relief and she knew joy and she knew so, so much peace.
When Michelle who was Sasha had quit, out on a field so similar to the one that she lived on, The Woman breathed a sigh of relief, because she knew — though I do not think she know how — that Michelle who was Sasha had found her own relief in those last moments. She had looked up to the sky, up to our own personal *HaShem,* up to The Dreamer who dreams the world in which we live, and in those moments she knew relief. She knew relief and she knew joy and she knew so, so much peace.
Peace! That was one of the things that The Woman craved. She wanted nothing more than to know a little bit of peace.
@ -118,7 +118,7 @@ No rituals. No overflowing. Just peace. It is hard to experience peace, hard to
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The Woman decided to go walking one day. Perhaps she was driven by restlessness. She had an errand to run, sure, but this day she decided to go out rather than perform this task at home. Perhaps she was bored! I do not know.
The Woman decided to go walking one day. Perhaps she was driven by restlessness. She had an errand to run, sure, but this day she decided to go out walking rather than perform this task at home or simply blip into being at her destination. Perhaps she was bored! I do not know.
Either way, she was feeling good and she was feeling stable and she was feeling feline, so she found herself a nice set of slacks to wear over her legs, ones that looped up over the base of her tail in such a way that the same would be just as possible with a skunk's tail, and yet which would not fall down for those moments when she did not have a tail.
@ -1714,7 +1714,7 @@ The Blue Fairy met The Woman at the foot of the steps of the house, that Gothic
There, The Blue Fairy bowed. She bowed and held out her hand and let The Woman rest her hand her paw her paw her hand her paw her paw her hand within it to let herself be guided down to the field like some princess greeted by some royal courtier or perhaps a prince from a far away kingdom. There, The Blue Fairy basked in this blessing of a smile from The Woman, her cocladist from far, far across the clade, and led her gently from the field and to the city.
My friends, my dear, *dear* friends, there was no door for her to brush her fingers against, no imagined *mezuza* that she might touch for some final blessing, and — at last at last for cone at last — neither was there a sense of ritual nipping at her heels, following along like some eager puppy, for she knew now that she created her own blessings she created her own peace she created her own future.
My friends, my dear, *dear* friends, there was no door for her to brush her fingers against, no imagined *mezuzah* that she might touch for some final blessing, and — at last at last for cone at last — neither was there a sense of ritual nipping at her heels, following along like some eager puppy, for she knew now that she created her own blessings she created her own peace she created her own future.
There was no door.