23/03/2026
The recent autumn wind in Gqeberha blew away all the heat that dried up our geraniums. Today, with discomfort in my trapezius and books to return to the library, I settled for cloves and Artemisia afra that my mother brewed this morning.
I have been soaked in my Neptunian 4th House — with my mercurial ginger cat, whom I sometimes feel like burying under some succulents. My three-year-old acacia tree stands always two metres from the seeds I collected in Rua Vladimir Lenin, and CJ looks more like my Dad by the day. I haven't smoked in a while and still pray under the Southern Cross at night.
Àṣẹ
