fuchs

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The warmth of the died down fire at my back; a cat's yawn; my scalp itching from the product that followed the hair cut too quickly for me to opt out.
Echoes of so many words ghosting through my mind, written and heard, many about sigils.

A small smile: the Queen in my hand craddles a tiny Oak leaf in hers-my mother's family's sigil. Years of handling this deck and I never noticed.

For a few days now I felt vaguely annoyed by the new deodorant ad campaign plastered everywhere, particularly Bhf Deutz/Messe, my major commute station.

Today I walk by and see a large sticker on top of it, beautifully sticking to the colour scheme of the ad:
"Sexistische Kackscheiße" (Sexist shit).

Thank you very much for that, Cologne, thank you.