From bc2f5e0720fff72cb780898d071a2cc32fa4c431 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Scott-Clary Date: Sun, 7 Jan 2024 15:15:11 -0800 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/motes/006.html | 9 +++++++++ 1 file changed, 9 insertions(+) diff --git a/writing/post-self/motes/006.html b/writing/post-self/motes/006.html index 7901c9d06..bcb9f14ee 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/motes/006.html +++ b/writing/post-self/motes/006.html @@ -83,6 +83,15 @@

Motes understood after some days of consideration that it was not her prophecy. It was theirs. It was Slow Hours’s and A Finger Pointing’s and Beholden’s and Unbidden’s and the whole rest of Au Lieu Du Rêve’s.

She was still good friends with that person years later. That person and so many more.

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((On the things Motes should not do))

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Above all else, Motes enjoyed piggyback rides.

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((Freedom over time))

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Motes dreamed.

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She dreamed and dreamed and dreamed, her mind wandering over her past, there in the dark, there alone, after A Finger Pointing left, there in her extra soft bed with her overstuffed duvet and all of her stuffed animals.

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And then she awoke.