“One thing I love about New York is that it’s constantly reminding you that it doesn’t need you. It’s like riding a wild horse. I wanted to be an artist, but the only work this city was willing to accept from me was to sit at a table and read tarot cards. So I did it for twenty years. I have no ability to predict the future. I told everyone that beforehand. There’s no invisible hand moving the cards. There’s no spirit whispering secrets in my ear. But I do believe in the cards. I believe in them like you’d believe in a poem. I believe in their aesthetics. I worked with French cards. Very old cards. Each card was beautiful, but when you arranged them on the table, they would speak to each other. They’d relate to each other. They became metaphors. I’d merely ask each person to look at the cards and describe what they’re seeing. Everyone brought their own lives to the table. Their own memories. Some people left thinking they’d gotten a prediction. Some left thinking they’d gotten advice. Some left with specific ideas: the title of a song, the conclusion of a novel, I never knew. Because everyone brought their own needs to the cards. Just as we bring them to every encounter. Just as we’d bring them to a poem.”
