The melanzane, peperoncino e mozzarella pizza at Almalfi restorante, a 10 minute walk from the Vatican, served as the shield and the knife as the spear that pierced through Jupiter's skull. The hungry girls version of Roman's Minerva / Greek's Athena. Goddesses, revisité.
After the noon-hour blessing by Papa Francesco from his balcony on the right of St. Peter's square, I treated myself to a rosary made of roses. A rose-ary. It smells divine. I have never used a rosary before and it may be a good way to meditate, to be calm and to clear my head. I liked that the Papa Francesco brought me back to my dear Valerie, even if was for a minute. She held him in high esteem - as high as Pope Jean-Paul II. Which is pretty high since she had named her beloved Polish chickens after him: J2 and P2.
Today, I read a quote that said 'if you expect the world to be fair, because you're fair, you're fooling yourself. That's like expecting the lion not to eat you, because you did not eat the lion.'