Budsday, 7 Photus

Earned 42 / Spent 11

Savings 14,767

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There was a lot of rebroken horses along the thoroughfare today.  Them twice-domesticated animals, having once gone feral when things fell apart during the Displacement, caught by the braves and sold back to us for extortionate amounts – give me the damn willies.  Every one of them stallions you can tell still has a jag of wildness in its eye, snorting hot air on you like they know they could smash a human body to pieces just for getting in their way.

Suppose it might be because it’s Budsday, and every fucker’s out in the street trying to look busy so as the weekend don’t seem like a distant memory – though by making the motions of hard work they’ll forget the lethargy that comes with knowing there’s another five days left before a godsly rest.

There was people going back and forth on deliveries, just as I were, and I almost got knocked down twice: once by a horse bigger and blacker than the Disc, and again by that fungusman’s daughter out spreading spores.  The next time she’s rude to me like that I’m going to report her to the maréchaussée.  Still, despite all the rush and bloody horses, Araby got his package on time.  I’m not sure I like being a courier for the Rotun, I’m never what I’m carrying’s safe.  But Araby’s a sound man and tipped me a few seeds (mostly caraway) so I’m almost back on target for my zeppelin ticket.

Another month and I’ll be able to go back home.  I’ll be able to see Foist again, gods bless her.

Gods bless her, the thought makes me want to cry.