spring is coming and i’m not ready for it. the fool came to me, to us, today, dancing his old-man body in a shower of blooms, and i thought: fuck you, old man. i’m not ready for spring, for the relentless march of time, for aging, for joy.
i am days away from an entire year in near-total solitude. i don’t know, exactly, how to process it. how will any of us ever process this pandemic year? as my friend erin said, early on: i think some part of us will always remain here.
this week, this month, my darlings, be gentle with yourselves. anniversaries are always hard.
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this week’s deck: sasuraibito tarot
this week’s crystals: milky quartz, amethyst
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