Throughout Northern Italy, I kept running across paintings of Madonna and Child in the most ridiculous poses…
“What is this? Cashmere? This cashmere? So soft!”
“Yo. Ma. Make me spend one more night in a manger and I’m gonna garotte you with your own veil. Capische?”
“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do! But you’re the one who decided to pick up a jellyfish! So hold your hand still so we can get this over with!”
“This looks suspiciously like my nose. This whole time, you haven’t been ‘getting’ my nose at all, have you? I have never felt more betrayed.”
“Shhh. Shush. Stop…talking…stop talking. Shush.”