After everything was done and over, and everyone had a chance to recover and the Endowment people had a chance to clean up the “fortress” and the fortress grounds, and everything started to get back to normal, I asked to go to Florence, Italy. Very cheeky of me, that I would just say we were going. No one questioned me, but nowadays, I always get my way. All they asked was, “Where in Italy?”

“Voglio andare alla Galleria degli Uffizi,” I said in flawless Italian, but then, everything I do was flawless nowadays.

What I said was that I wanted to go to the Uffizi Gallery, a museum and gallery in the famous Piazza della Signora in Florence, Italy. Some people in my, um, “entourage,” wondered why I wanted to go to Italy. Some of them said, maybe I just wanted to play tourist. But most just took it at face value and said, what’s the difference? All that mattered was that I wanted to go to Italy.

So, in a few days, we were in Florence. Someone had hired a big, spacious limousine ahead of our arrival, as well as all the other things that we would have needed.

Before stepping down from my plane, I checked out my outfit and makeup in the mirror. I decided to take off my girdle – I was more self–assured nowadays so I found that I didn’t need much assistance lately to keep me more confident. I unbuttoned my blouse, took the shiny girdle off, and just dropped it onto one of the chairs – it’s not as if anyone would dare take it. Besides, it wouldn’t work for anyone else.

And with only Carla, Michael, and one big bodyguard with me in the car, we went off to the gallery, although about a half-dozen cars comprising the rest of my motorcade followed. It was a discrete motorcade, to be sure, and most wouldn’t notice us as we drove through the city.

I instructed the local driver (who came with the rented limo) to stop at a flower shop – in flawless Italian, of course, lol. Instead of buying roses as I normally would, at the shop, I got a bouquet of three dozen yellow tulips. I picked tulips because tulips symbolized perfection, specifically perfect and deep love, or unconditional love. And I picked yellow-orange because it went well with my current look. What can I say – these things come automatically to me, now.

Carla, Michael, and my entourage walked with me and a nice museum staffer brought us to the painting, “The Birth of Venus,” by Botticelli. Holding my flowers in my arms, I sat on the bench that was immediately in front of the painting, Carla and Michael sitting to the left and right of me, and stared at it. “Beautiful painting,” I murmured. Carla and Michael understood why we were there. Carla hugged me.

Michael, trying to make light of things, shrugged. “I don’t know,” Michael said. “I prefer Da Vinci over Botticelli myself.”

“Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oof!” He exclaimed, and I apologized. I still didn’t know my new strength, yet.

After some time, I stood and left the bouquet at the foot of the painting. I put my arms through Carla’s and Michael’s, and we walked around the gallery, leisurely taking in the rest of the art displayed in the gallery, and then we departed for home.

I was anxious to get back. I was anxious to start changing the world already. For the better, hopefully – that was the plan. But change it I will. I was determined.

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