I had my tarot cards read in Krakow.
I'd never done anything like it before and to call me "skeptical", then and now, would be an understatement.
But I still get chills when I think about what I was told by this Englishman, a hostel employee who read through his handmade tarot cards by candlelight in the kitchen, voices from the hostel bar rattling off the walls.
White paper squares curled at the edges from use.
Crude little pen doodles.
A future that I could feel
A present that I know.
I still think about all of this, a lot
and at the time I wanted to laugh and shout "are you shitting me?"
I doubt I'll ever ask for my tarot cards to be read again. I would feel like I was cheating on Krakow, on this Englishman, and on the truth.