Wild nights in the city and a door that opens inward only. Young man on a street corner in front of a golden brazier, a crowd of masked revelers passing behind him. The sickle in his right hand is obsidian and sharp, sharp; he holds the pouch of his testicles in his left hand. His eyes are bright and god-touched; his robe flaps open, heavy with the the blood running down his thighs. A half-dressed Amazon watches from an upper balcony, her arms crossed over her scarred chest. Her face tells us nothing of what she thinks: a little stern, perhaps a little wistful. She watches through the lens of memory.
The two of them represent initiation and commitment. In their dark or reversed aspect, decisions rushed into without heed for the consequences. In either case, dedication to some higher power or cause: gods of earth and sky, military service. The sacrifice of the body and the self to the group. Undertone of selfishness, not selflessness; they have achieved their own apotheosis by severing themselves from biological history. They are gloriously sterile branches, that blossom once in riotous beauty and then are seen no more.