3 February

The battlefields of the lions soak a pumice soil with red stains and silent memories. Watching the beaded drops awaiting entry into the dust, remember to practice your own patience while your destiny's probability function takes its time collapsing. And later, like the once-brilliant red beads, your life will have faded toward black and white, having no longer the bright, spherical brilliance, but a dull, patchy stain in time. Find in this the peace of rest.