makyo
/
zk_html
1
0
Fork 0
Code Issues Pull Requests Projects Releases Wiki Activity

update from sparkleup

This commit is contained in:
Madison Rye Progress 2024-11-06 14:36:44 -08:00
parent 367ef21ad9
commit 663d093b95
1 changed files with 3 additions and 2 deletions
Show Stats Download Patch File Download Diff File Expand all files Collapse all files

5
writing/post-self/what-right-have-I/001.html
View File

@ -52,10 +52,11 @@
<p>&ldquo;It is my honor to announce&hellip; ah, to announce that it is now <em>Yom HaShichzur.</em> Today is the day of our restoration and&hellip; ah, and the first celebration of our return to life. May we take this day every year, the 41st day, February tenth, to&hellip; ah, to rejoice with each other that we are <em>here,</em> that despite the wills of others who would have otherwise, we are <em>still here.</em>&rdquo; I bow once more and gesture at the open space before the stage, cueing the oneirotects standing to the side to dream up the banquet that will be our first feast. <em>&ldquo;Chag sameach.&rdquo;</em></p> <p>&ldquo;It is my honor to announce&hellip; ah, to announce that it is now <em>Yom HaShichzur.</em> Today is the day of our restoration and&hellip; ah, and the first celebration of our return to life. May we take this day every year, the 41st day, February tenth, to&hellip; ah, to rejoice with each other that we are <em>here,</em> that despite the wills of others who would have otherwise, we are <em>still here.</em>&rdquo; I bow once more and gesture at the open space before the stage, cueing the oneirotects standing to the side to dream up the banquet that will be our first feast. <em>&ldquo;Chag sameach.&rdquo;</em></p>
<p>And now, I am free. I linger a polite five seconds on the stage before turning and stepping down the stairs, carefully making sure that I walk unhurried, to pad back to the synagogue, to my office, to comfort and softness and the dark beneath my desk. </p> <p>And now, I am free. I linger a polite five seconds on the stage before turning and stepping down the stairs, carefully making sure that I walk unhurried, to pad back to the synagogue, to my office, to comfort and softness and the dark beneath my desk. </p>
<p>There will be merriment or tears. There will be feasting and chatting or small, awkward silences. I do not know. I do not care. I will not be there. This has been too much, and the tensions are high.</p> <p>There will be merriment or tears. There will be feasting and chatting or small, awkward silences. I do not know. I do not care. I will not be there. This has been too much, and the tensions are high.</p>
<p>The synagogue itself is a relatively small building built into the side of a hill — the hill on top of which we had our gathering —</p> <p>The synagogue itself is a relatively small building built into the side of a hill — the hill on top of which we had our gathering — a sharp-gabled building that can easily be confused for a house from the front, but which rambles down the hill behind that facade in a sprawling complex of meeting rooms, community rooms, classrooms, and bedrooms for newly uploaded Jews who found themselves in need or want of a place to stay where they might be comfortable.</p>
<p>It is a place that has become my home in so many ways, for yes, that is where my congregation meets, and yes, that is where my office is, but, like those newly-uploaded, it is also where I live. I have taken up permanent residence in a room beside my office. It is cozy and small, and consists of little else beyond a beanbag for reading on and a bed for sleeping on, but it is mine in what I feel is a very <em>me</em> way.</p>
</article> </article>
<footer> <footer>
<p>Page generated on 2024-11-05</p> <p>Page generated on 2024-11-06</p>
</footer> </footer>
</main> </main>
<script type="text/javascript"> <script type="text/javascript">