Not a fan of astrology.
This is the second part, I mean first part, the first part was introduction:

SPACE STATIONS

It was a city so beautiful, so perfect, that its ghost was preserved in memory-djinn-bottle for all eternity, as one of the sacred nodes.

The guardian of this bottle is the one who is writing this text you are reading now. The gallery of dreams is my final resting place. The place I wish to remain in and be buried in, within dreams that will never stop unfolding.

Like infinite net of Arachne or Indra.

And the old man stands before this venture. With spider limbs growing out of his scull. And a torch that sets all the nodes alight.

Space stations I believe they were named by Bowie, the old man, the astronaut, the hermit, the ghost, here the writer.