I love the beginning of each New Year. It’s a shimmering time made of bubbles and shivers of blind hope. One of the things I love best about the New Year is the sudden deluge of all kinds of horoscopes appearing on the covers of everything.
I love to read horoscopes: traditional, Chinese, Celtic, of the Trees, of the Angels, Tibetan, whatever, doesn’t matter, I read them all, they are like pimped-up movie trailers for the months I’m about to live. It doesn’t matter if I forget about whatever prediction has been drafted for me immediately after I put down the magazine, I don’t have to know if the forecast will prove accurate or not. Reading horoscopes brings me an instant gratification completely devoid of consequences and I like that.
So this year, for all of you out there who have been reading this staggering blog of mine and have encouraged me to go on, I want to give my own version of this innocent moment of astrological oblivion, as a present. To achieve that, I prepared myself a huge pot of Raspberry-and-Peppermint tea, lit a red candle, pulled out my deck of Tarot cards (yes, I do own one – surprise?) and what came out of the combination of the above mentioned ingredients is: