Today, the sky holds a square between Venus and Mars. Both in mental signs—Gemini and Virgo—leaving many of us teetering on the edge these days. A flood of words, thoughts, ideas on one side, and a mountain of duties, tasks, checklists on the other. We’re packing for the sea—those are the checklists. I’m building this website, choosing fonts like Venus once chose lovers in happier times. One font (Mars in Virgo, typography) feels too pretentious, another too childish, but this one—I like it. It reads like a book. I can’t stand these trendy, potato-shaped fonts. It’s not just their roundness; they feel disinterested. With them, the word “Forget” reads the same as “ventilator.” What a pity for the calligraphic traditions! The Chinese must be despairing. That sharp quill, once piercing and leaving its mark, has simply vanished. What’s this 21st-century urge to banish Mars from our minds, to make everything rounded? Perhaps it’s just a phase. Seven-and-a-half years of Uranus in Taurus, and we’ve rounded out too, just like the fonts. Cars have lost their sharp edges; everything’s curved. Yet paper can still cut us—until they abolish it with Uranus in Gemini, claiming digital paper will “save the Amazon” while new mines open and entire regions turn into waste dumps. The font I’ve chosen, the one your eyes now glide over, is called Esteban. Yes, a man’s name. A young man, I’d say. An Argentine. Crafted by Angélica Díaz, inspired by the manuscripts of Jorge Alfredo Díaz Esteban. Some soul lingered when it moved to paper.
Argentina, birthplace of dear Sabato, who gazed into the endless depths of Borges and Cortázar—the one who first urged me to write short stories while I was studying—somehow has no rival in font selection. As Woland said,
“Manuscripts don’t burn!”
Even when we torch them in this digital age, their spirit endures. And where there was no spirit, we’ll invent one to make it “beautiful,” because strength (Mars) is lacking. Like this square of Venus and Mars. It’s not that an emotional bond lacks strength—it lacks strength if it’s missing a touch of Argentina. That raw, living spirit, equal parts joy and sorrow, beauty and ugliness left untouched to remind us that everything around us is perfectly imperfect. Don’t cry for me, Argentina, the truth is, I never left you…