update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/idumea/003.html

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                 <h1 id="3">3</h1>
 <p>The Woman rode the high of lovely friendship for days after that coffee date. For nearly a week, she reveled in the sense of camaraderie and coexistence. How lucky she was! How lucky that she had the chance to exist in the same universe as Her Friend! How lucky, how lucky.</p>
 <p>Whenever The Woman felt this way, she would wander around the house and clean. She would take on extra cooking duties and make extra desserts for her cocladists and friends. She would go for walks around the field, treating the house itself as a signpost at the center of widening circles. She would imagine that those circles might some day spread out across the entire world, never mind the varied infinities housed within the field itself. It was a thing to which she could give herself as she asked her high-minded questions: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?</p>
-<p>These words of Rilke&rsquo;s would dance unblushing through her mind, linking arms with the words of Dickinson which ever twined around those of her clade — <em>If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done&hellip;</em> — </p>
+<p>These words of Rilke&rsquo;s would dance unblushing through her mind, linking arms on one side with the words of Dickinson which ever twined around those of her clade — <em>If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done&hellip;</em> — and on the other with the lingering lines of the Ode that made up the names of her clade. &ldquo;I remember the rattle of dry grass,&rdquo; she would explain to the bees as they buzzed in friendship around her ankles. &ldquo;I remember the names of all things and forget them only when I wake.&rdquo;</p>
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                 <p>Page generated on 2024-05-07</p>