The fox is a non-conforming, cunning trickster, often a shapeshifter, and has red fur. It’s somewhere in between on the archetypal scale from dog to cat, it’s Mercury in between Venus and Mars. A girl at a pub once borrowed my black notebook and wrote a poem: “I want to eat the fox” and only later I understood she was hitting on me. I’ve also, several years ago, drawn a magical picture of a fox in a fox-mask and I realized only afterwards it was a symbol of myself. Finally I’ve also, ever since one of my closest friends started working with theater, used a fox-based analogy to point out the wonderful absurdity in magic and art. Now I’m a member of a not so secret society (without name) and my magical epithet is: A fox in change.