O goed, gwaed a gwacter, rhwng ysgallen a seren
I sent my godchild the Tarot deck of dragons I had owned since I was his age. I always loved its Hermit shining atop a promontory, the Tower with the red dragon at its roots. It seemed like the right time. He drew the two of wands straight off and loves it. I have fulfilled one of my godparental obligations. It could have been a set of bongos.

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Thank you! It was just called the Dragon Tarot by an artist named Peter Pracownik—I saved for it and bought it from the science fiction and fantasy bookstore that flourished briefly in my home town in high school.
(The artist died last summer! I had no idea. His Tarot deck looks to be still available. I had frankly assumed it was long out of print. I bought it in 1996.)
I have several other decks that I have since been given over the years, but that one seemed like my godchild's inheritance.
Well, the two of wands can mean that you're marching to the beat of your own drum, so maybe it's a metaphorical set of bongos?
I've told him he can't set the basement on fire, I need it when I come to visit!
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