The Three Graces 💚 Rome

In the Seventh House

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When the moon is in the Seventh House
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars

— The Fifth Dimension

Lucia and Sandra both saw the door open on the other side of the empty caffè. Claudia walked in, dazed and numb, yet expectant, as if she were going somewhere, yet she didn't know where or why. And yet she knew somehow that she was in the right place at the right time. So she let her legs carry her body past the empty tables, to where the two women were sitting, looking rather lost.

Lucia, Sandra, and Claudia looked into each other's eyes, but Fra Sole is opening the door of the caffè, and so the usual rules don’t apply. One of Claudia’s eyes looks at Lucia and the other eye looks at Sandra. The ocular nerves that hold her vision in the usual channels aren't snapped, fractured, or warped. Rather, they’re operating according to some other logic, connecting her to both of the other two women at once, just as both their eyes are split and yet unified in a triangular vision including her. From Lucia she feels a wide expanse and from Sandra a close intimacy. The depth of their emotions flows into her heart, which overflows back into their’s.

Fra Sole sees the caffè table and the three women, yet he also sees the trinity of old. He draws the past up into the moment, transforming the etherial dust of the Greek Charites into the dusty pigments of the Roman Gratiae, and from there into the life-blood of the present.

Fra Sole sees before him the re-embodiment of the Ancient Graces: Aglaea the shining light that traverses the void; Euphrosyne of the curious mind, of merriment and mirth; and Thalia, blooming with open heart in the beauty of her own awareness. They rise from the table, breathing all together, slowly coming to life — after having been buried in the volcanic ash of Pompeii —

— after having been resurrected by Cranach the Elder —

— and after having found an appropriate three-dimensional form in Les Trois Grâces of Pradier —

In his mind’s eye, Fra Sole sees their true form: three molded works of art yet also one unified work of art: Lucia wary of the sun, Sandra curled into the neck of Claudia, whose full breasts and broad smile welcome the day, as if to say, This is the mind’s true liberation. Let the sun shine in!

The three young women feel the same fusion of energies they felt in the Pantheon, the Golden Temple on Vicino Prossimo, wherever it was, whatever it was, perhaps a nexus between galaxies. These thoughts circle between their minds but without the fear of an empty space or terrifying abyss. Their thoughts range far, yet their feelings remain near, steady, in the moment, around a caffè table, in the city they love.

Their hands are linked around the table, like their eyes. They can't distinguish between their own thoughts and the thoughts of the other two. And yet Sandra breaks apart for a final moment, thinking to herself (and to the others listening inside her) the last singular thought she’ll ever have: “Progressive pronouns have done their job: each she has become they, and they will never become singular again.” 

Their bodies still feel the touch of the other two hands, one on the left and another on the right, pulsing cobalt blue pulses up their arms like heroin and cocaine to their brains, lighting up their senses and infolding all the thoughts and feelings that used to go outward; drinking in the liquid ether of the other singular two now moving up their veins and into their hearts, after which they see Fra Sole — glowing in outline and a warm smile on his face — speaking in perfect English, telling her that she can walk around the city and see for herself. She needn't worry because the Baulians can't see her.

Sor Luna walks toward the door of the caffè. Fra Sole holds her hand as they walk through the glass and into the bright Italian sun, stopping here and there to smell the flowers.

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Next: Dear Matthew

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