Après-midi de la fondling…….or, Paris @ 1400

I chose a Wednesday to see the Charles VI exhibit.

How crowded could it be?

As I squeezed in between bodies to see the Cité des Dames

Christine de Pizan’s words came back to me.

My heart was pounding, my knees threatening to buckle

And then I noticed their reflection in the glass—

A young, handsome couple

He was squeezing her ass and she was oozing hormonal contentment.

And they were completely blocking the construction of the city of Virtue!

When I turned to the Grandes Chroniques de France, they were fondling in

Front of the greatest royal story ever told!

I was incensed!

They could have fondled in front of Mona or the

Venus de Milo—-why “Paris around the year 1400?”

Did this mean I was an intellectual snob after all?

Cringing to hear the blue-haired ladies discuss the azure robes the Virgin wore in a page by the Boucicault Master?

Being elbowed by the effigies and denied any views of the enamels,

I sank to the marble bench in front of the Apocalypse tapestries and

Tried to put this in perspective.  It was not apocalyptic in import.

I just never cast myself as a misanthrope before—and now I had become a

Full-fledged member of the club.

In many ways I know nothing more than to squeeze the ass of art!

So why do I nod knowingly at the priceless parchment under glass?

 

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