There is an art to a beautiful ending, a conclusion that reeks of grace and does not hide its face in pointless denial. An elegant farewell that bows low to what once was but shall not - and quite possibly should not - be again. A final goodbye properly done allows us to turn our face to the new and probably wonderful chapter ready to commence, without dragging the bloodied tendrils of the last one behind us.

We make our way through the far end of the zodiac as if underwater. The afterglow of eclipse and the undertow of retrograde combine as an odd surrealism permeates the landscape.

Universal fuck you can be how change arrives, glittered up or not.

All too often in our crazy busy overscheduled lives we rush from one thing to the next, darting from place to place and thing to thing like manic dragonflies. There are deadlines to meet and Stuff To Get Done. People depend on us, employ us, rely on us, can't get by without us (hello parenthood).