A long group chat full of friends who half love each other because of you and half in spite of you, and you stitched the whole thing together. Venus dwells in your eleventh house, the house of the circle of friends and the long-arc dream of a city not yet built, and so your affection naturally weaves people into a fabric. You are the connector, the one who throws the brunch, the one who remembers without checking that this friend hates cilantro and that one cannot do Tuesdays. Most people badly undervalue this work, so quit billing yourself the cheapest rate for it. Beware reading the sheer breadth of your warmth as depth, until you are somehow exhausted and oddly lonely in the middle of your own crowded party. Pour the most love into the smallest circle. The wider community holds you far better once it can tell you have a tight, tended few living right at the center of it.
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