The video looks old and grainy, but the voice reaches out: Well, there were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded.
The triangle is one of the basic shapes of the universe, noted for its strength, its unbreakable nature. Buckminster Fuller built a dome from them for the ’67 Expo, but it burned in ’76. The outer skin is gone now. Sunshine, rain and pigeons travel through its bones.
Triangles are also dangerous. If you carve one of flint, it becomes an arrowhead, an instrument of injury or death, Cupid’s weapon of choice.
If you shape one from wood and leave one end open, it becomes a boomerang.
In a bright new video, a young man stands on an old stone balcony with his beautiful bride. Every day he looks more like his father, who stood there with his beautiful bride thirty years before. He kisses his new wife once once. The crowd cheers.
He kisses her again. Perhaps remembering his parents, he signals no more.
Two is enough. He knows from experience that three is not a lucky number in love.