disparate and lonely buds, chopped off, with no stems or roots or support. A swords struggling to fight against 6 closely intertwined swords, to break up the pattern. But it is really trapped, weakened. Locked in but with the ambition to be free. Mental stress and wariness but not yet giving up.
Another day, when waking up refreshed and rosy-cheeked, I might see the Chariot here, the quest and the glory, the Will breaking free. But today oh dread.
Didn’t manage to get a photo of the story cubes, but it was Mail and Foot. And yeah, I did go to the postoffice to collect a parcel with 2 books 😀