“The Language of Statues – I” / Memorable Fancies #046

There are many statues of me, a new one every few days. I don’t know how they came to be there, but suddenly – there they are, and I am once again delighted, and my courtiers are amused.

Some of the statues are life-size, some smaller, some larger. I like the larger ones best. I see at least one statue of me whenever I’m being driven through the capital, or taken for a stroll in the presidential gardens, or visiting our far-flung troops to encourage their valiant fight.

I am slowly learning the language of statues: “plinth,” “stiacciato-relievo”; “aerugo”; and so on. I don’t know what these words mean.

I look forward to seeing the next statue, and then the next, what the sculptor has done, how he has probed my innermost spirit (the spirit of our nation!), how he has revealed it in all its heroic splendor to the passing crowd.

I have come to appreciate the various aspects, poses, brilliance of my statues. I am becoming, by now, a practiced critic. I have ennobled some of the sculptors. A few others I have consigned to the dungeons. I visit them and listen to their cries.

 

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