The right word is in your mouth before you go looking for it, like a name you never actually forgot. Mercury, the swift part of you that sorts and links and explains, holds a smooth trine to your Part of Fortune, the spot your chart builds from Ascendant, Sun, and Moon by sect, where your life settles with the least fuss. Clarity is braided into that place already. Talk flows, sense lands, and the bridge between two far ideas seems to lay its own planks under your feet as you cross. Other people grope for the thread; you are already holding it. No cleverness is being awarded here. The quick mind and the easy ground were the same open channel from the start.
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