Moon in Virgo, Page of Pentacles

My feelings are a building in a city I'm visiting.

The block has no traffic. There are cars parked on the street, none of them less than 5 years old.

This neighborhood holds 3 story apartment buildings, one unit per floor, each with a balcony. Some old chairs, here a towel thrown over a rail, there by the sidewalk a crushed plastic gas station cup. The building colors range from beige to pale pink. No peeling paint, but a rubbing of gray over the textured stucco walls.

My building sits on the corner. It's got a bar on the bottom floor. Maybe. The signs aren't clear, and there are closed fabric shades behind the windows.

The colors draw the eye, the bar a deep blue-green. The paint uniformly covers the trim, the walls, the door, and the wooden slatted awning. Above, a peachy coral.

It looks like I can't go in. I won't even try the door.

I stand outside, looking up at the slats above. Each one is a stab in my heart, a connection to another human soul. All of these people in my life, all these people need their own lifeline connected to me. How can I go in when I have to stay out here under these slats.

Some light infiltrates down to the sidewalk where I stand. This is poorly designed for shade. Trying to look at these slats, I'm intermittently blinded.

But here I see the sunlight filtered through green leaves above. Vines are curling and growing up there. Creating shade, enwrapping the slats, beautifying them, giving them purpose. As I watch, they grow, heart-shaped leaves like arrowheads extending out from a nest of multiplying flowers.

Before long, it appears as if these vines have been here a long time, well-established and flourishing.

Even as I stand here outside this building, not going in, I breathe in the cool air under the pergola. I can feel love on top of and intertwined with the stakes of my anxiety.