Night in the Park


I have never been to the Borghese at night until now.  I am here , waiting to watch “The Lobster” at a tiny cinema that is called  Cinema dei Piccoli ( tiny cinema). It is so small that you have to wait outside until your designated movie starts.
Why go to the movies in the middle of a park at night?? Because sometimes I feel abandoned and thus I go places that I feel I could disappear into.  In a few days I will be at a  Christmas party and I will be eating and forced to eat endless yummy artistry and drink countless vino….yet tonight, this second….I feel abandoned. Go figure.

I was walking around the park , waiting for my designated time  and  discovered this staute.  I have never been this side of the park before so it was interesting to find her. I have no clue about who or what it means. I know she lost her head and it was a  tragedy.   I would have to Google or asked a historian friend for details yet I prefer to make up her story.

Let’s begin…this is llaria the mother of Joy.  She was always a happy woman even when someone died, or when she stubbed her toes or a major disaster happened she continued to be happy.  It was not that she was mocking peoples’ suffering but she could not frown. She was blessed and curse with happiness. Llaria was a beautiful woman for her features were diverse.  She had curly dark hair that depending on the time of day went from light brown to black. Her eyes were like water. Her skin like Nutmeg.  She smelled of lavender naturally and was a helpful woman.
Like all women she desired to be in love. After a time she encountered a robust man with a  moustache that curled and who was charming despite his selflish laugh. Soon they were married and she was pregnant.
Llaria was always happy. Her life seemed happy, however, it was not. Her robust husband became more robust. He treated her bad while she was pregnant.  If you didn’t attend the wedding you would think she was a servant of the house and not the lady.
Llaria endured.
One day she was in the barn feeding the animals when her water broke. She screamed for help yet the noise of the animal drowned her out. She screamed and push and screamed and push until a little head pop out, then shoulders , arms,body and tiny toes,looking all wrinkled and bloody.  She felt a tear and it was joyous. She named the baby Joy.  Joy was a boy.  He was her joy. She had felt pain,anguish, anxiety and tears, sweet tears for the first time thus he was joy. When she had enough strength she ran away into the forest. To whom or where no one knows for she didn’t reach far. She heard her husband shouting her name and turned around in which she ran into a tree that took her head.

Joy never knew his mother, only the tales told. So he made a grand statue in the garden. For she was his tragedy.

I do think that the park is quite calm at night despite the cold. I can see my breathe! I am sitting on a dilapidated bench …….


writing this post on my phone and waiting to see if the Lobster becomes a lobster.  Ciao