Libra

July 29, 2026
Under the sign of the dagger
Age of Apotheosis

It seemed past evening, but the sun was still centered in the sky, balanced between mid-morning and afternoon. The earth – a deeply faulted thing – was riven by mossy cliffs that broke from the ground at sharp angles as if cracked by the fall of huge weights. No shadows cast but those that shone straight down, and the cliffs were too steep to offer shade. I camped on the top of a high rise and sketched the moon into a notebook, then pressed it to my face and imagined what night must feel like.

As sudden as sleep had found me, the earth quaked, my stomach dropped and the notebook flew skyward into a starry void. I thought that I had rolled over the edge and fallen, but a look at my surroundings confirmed the impossible: every cliff had reversed itself so that what was below was now above and the sun had vanished to be replaced by a perfectly centered moon. After some trial and error, I found that the altitudes closest to sea level were safest.

A Fragment of Kawaii Village; a historian, too. Her greatest infamies were all in the West Pacific, but her story began in Illuminati. I sewed a patch into my rucksack with a fine phrase visible from the front pocket, “I become foolish by carrying folly on my back.”

As the cliffs scrape against each other during unpredictable quakes, I hear the rocks scream “Why do we destroy ourselves?”

"So that we can be made anew.”

The Caravan continues, to Sagittarius!

Gnosis