in the shrine room, she snuck candle and gold beams for her pocket. they were already stuck in the folds of her chest. she was an omphalos for a a peaceful universe, made with silk, but she was also alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalso nothing. beautiful nothing, alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalso and even god was nothing. alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalso and in infinite, salt-grain moments the weight of the cosmos alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoa sank into the pools of her ebony eyes, alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalso and she saw blue flushes of galaxy stars alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoals swirling above her in perfumed mist, alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoa like perfect poetry. alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalso it was night, but not dark. never dark.
and finally, she was alsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalsoalso healed.