Fix a note

content/notes.md

@@ -216,7 +216,7 @@ Just as it is not without its terror, yes? For verse 11 was used against The Chi
 
 > <sup>11</sup> When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.
 
-Such bitterness! Words as a weapon! I write below of how we loathe our connections, and here was a moment of that loathing, for I remember well the pain that we all felt at that cruelty, but this is not that story, and so I will linger on the ideas of 
+Such bitterness! Words as a weapon! I write below of how we loathe our connections, and here was a moment of that loathing, for I remember well the pain that we all felt at that cruelty, but this is not that story, and so I will linger on the ideas of glasses darkly.
 
 #### *The Sightwright suffered as I do, as The Oneirotect does, and perhaps even as The Woman did.*
 
@@ -590,3 +590,4 @@ I do not know, my dear readers. I do not know these things and I do not know man
 Perhaps, though, perhaps the × stands for the decision that I made. It is the role I played in letting The Woman, that beautiful soul who bestowed a blessing with every smile, step away from the world, for removing those blessings from us, that beauty from us, that life, that veil.
 
 I am so, so incredibly sorry, and also rather proud of what I have done, of helping The Woman in so noble an endeavor, in equal measure.
+

content/prelim/005.md

@@ -368,7 +368,6 @@ The Oneirotect, clearly delighted by so simple a question, brought its paws toge
 
 I chuckled, shrugged.
 
-<!-- Want to rework 'endangered and extinct'; maybe bring up climate crisis? -->
 "Very well. I favor culinary constructs now, but that has only become the case since I met Codrin. That said, I did begin with fruits! I wanted to recreate some of what was lost to the climate disaster. Most of the heavy lifting had already been done by the time I began exploring oneirotecture, but there remained gaps in what was available. That experience was most formative, but it was Codrin's cooking that sent me down this path."
 
 "Not █████? Not Codrin and Dear's partner?" The Woman asked. She asked, of course, after one remembered fondly, and one whose name is not yours to know, dear readers, or perhaps you know it intimately, but with a wink and a nudge like a joke kept between us. "Are they not the chef?"
@@ -419,7 +418,7 @@ It did not talk to her, friends, you must understand. It did not talk to her, an
 
 "I sat with a good book while it took that dire walk between skunk and fennec, and when it returned, it had become something unrecognizable to me. I could see the direction it took, but not the road it followed; it had become something alien, and the prospect of disappearing after that felt rather a lot more like dying than becoming, and so I chose to yield my name to it — for that Dear was that of me who had already become, yes? —  and spent some months working to earn the name Warmth In Fire."
 
-The Woman furrowed her brow in that ineffably still way of hers. "I remember that there was talk within the clade about names, yes, and the general shape of what had happened, that there was some furor about the fact that a down-tree might accept a later line than an up-tree, though I never did understand the import that some placed on that." There was a smile, a hint of a bow, and a quiet addition: "You are so incredibly yourself, though, I cannot picture you as ever having been a Dear, and certainly never as a fennec." <!-- check wrt annihilation -->
+The Woman furrowed her brow in that ineffably still way of hers. "I remember that there was talk within the clade about names, yes, and the general shape of what had happened, that there was some furor about the fact that a down-tree might accept a later line than an up-tree, though I never did understand the import that some placed on that." There was a smile, a hint of a bow, and a quiet addition: "You are so incredibly yourself, though, I cannot picture you as ever having been a Dear, and certainly never as a fennec."
 
 There followed a moment of The Oneirotect visibly mastering a note of annihilation upon hearing this. It was, I think, one of those things which hurts to hear, and yet which is completely right: ey is not yet another instance of The Instance Artist, nor has ey been for centuries, and yet there is that of The Instance Artist still within em, is there not? "When I stepped from that sim," ey explained, "I did so with the commitment, both to myself and to it, that what was Dear had changed, and that who was Dear must embrace that. I am unsure, however, that I have ever quite addressed the fact that, often when I hear about Dear from others, there is a rankling within me. Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly bad about myself, I feel like it stole my very name from me. I feel like a leftover, a shadow on the floor of the stage of my own show."