O arsmen …

 
»Looks like you almost missed the August full-moon, Bromford Bibble.«

»Ah, shut up, you demon sheep. What is the first rule of the blockblog?«

»Don't talk about blockblog?«

»No, we don't need this rule. Nobody is talking about this blockblog. Nobody is reading this blockblog. The first rule of the blockblog is, there are no rules in the blockblog. You will never guess and never know when the next post will be out. And you were the one who brought all these full-moons into the whole thing here. I had almost forgotten my were-bus-problem.«

»Whatever you do, human«, the black sheep that wants me to call it Mr. Tumbleweed, the faun, says, »you always have to remember the Sturgeon Moon.«

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?
More like a freak or publicity stunt.
Oh
No.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And broke down the door of the cage and marched on out.

🌕

Today is Tuesday, the 1st of August 2023.

Sturgeon Moon