Today the full moon parks itself in Libra, the zodiac’s diplomat with a fetish for balance, the effect is like a galactic memo insisting everyone play nice—or at least pretend to. Tides still hurl themselves at shores, yearning for a lunar getaway, while dogs howl, mistaking the moon for a cosmic treat. Humans, though, get a Libran twist: they’re seized by an urge to harmonize, suddenly debating whether their sofa clashes with their soul or if their neighbor’s feud deserves a peace treaty written in starlight. Meanwhile, decisions become torture—tea or coffee? Left or right sock first?—as Libra’s scales wobble under lunar glow. The full moon, serene in Libra, smirks as it nudges the world toward something – is it fairness and folly? It feels as if the cosmos decided to host a universal tea party where everyone’s invited but nobody knows the dress code.
