In the season of mists and images, I am a pilgrim in a world populated by ghosts. I spend my days in the past. The future is closed to me. The dream permeates all visions of all things and I know on the outside, I’ve got a book and tarot deck going live. Early orders are being fulfilled. The sense of expectation that I do something about this is real and not real.
Promises, my loves, are an empty currency. Visit my shop. Take a look around, but don’t look for me anywhere. I haven’t moved on, but inward and backward. Who knows, I might surface one day, but not today.
