Out of infinity she looms, more alive than the living. She will not meet our eyes, this silent daughter of time, but gazes away, toward something worthy of her regard. Nor will she share her thoughts. Come Judgment Day we will know no more of them than we do now.
In the lady's arms is an ermine, which she touches affectionately, but does not seek to control. She and it have freely chosen each other's company.
Her face holds the faintest of smiles.
Not for us.
And this morning . . .
I saw Leonardo da Vinci's Lady with an Ermine. I hope your day was happy too.
That's either an extremely small woman, or a colossal ermine.
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