I, Mona Lisa

by Natasha Solomons

– men gazed at her, trying to put her back together in their minds, as if through love they could mend her, make the puzzle of her whole again.

if women were machines of suffering it was men turning the handle.

Leda forgives him grudgingly at last. But I always loved Leonardo more. Even as I adore her, I know that I have learned to be more human than her. I accept human flaws and frailties. I love a man. I didn’t fuck a swan.