Letter was written in 1509, but the chapel ceiling was not finished until 1512. It just makes you think of what people do to give us all pleasure. I'm bent taught like a Syrian bow, and my breast twists like a harpy. My haunches are grinding into my guts, my poor-ass strains to work as a counterweight. Every gesture I make is blind and aimless. Defend it for me, Giovanni, protect my honour. "I am not a painter. I love the resistance to creativity in that"

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