A solitary woman dressed in dark regal hues, her fingers adorned with topazes and opals, a voice as deep and smooth as the softest of velvets. She sits in a room scented like opium and incense, twilight cloaking everything in purple and orange. In front of her, there they are: beautifully decorated, colorful, mysterious, frightening.
This is what comes to mind when the word “tarots” is mentioned. The more informed about the topic would probably also recall specific illustrations, those of the incredibly famous Rider-Waite deck, created in England at the beginning of the 20th century. But our story today — and indeed that of tarots in general — starts much earlier than that.
