Another tale from the unbelievable category. Although anything has happened.

Is It Feasible to Approach Botticelli?

The new version.

Episode One: Botticelli, Lorenzo de Medici, and the Birth of Venus.

“Sandro, my glorious friend, try to understand me.”

A massive hand adorned with diamond rings rested firmly on Botticelli’s shoulder. It was Lorenzo de Medici, gazing at the flames of the fireplace.

“I am confident that decades from now, our descendants will call this age the Renaissance—the era of rebirth,” he declared. “Please, consider this term’s meaning in your next stunning artwork.”

Botticelli’s eyes wandered to a stained-glass window, where the word “rebirth” echoed in his mind. Birth… Venus… the Goddess of Love is born.
Smiling, he nodded respectfully. “Yes, my lord. I understand you.”

Lorenzo applauded as an attendant presented a silver tray with a leather bag monogrammed LdM.

 “This is the first money for the start, Sandro. By 1485, all of Florence will applaud your masterpiece.”

Botticelli replied humbly: “My lord, it is 1482. True art takes time.”
Lorenzo lifted his gaze toward the cross. “The Lord sets no deadlines for genius.”

Hi pal—it’s Charlie the ginger cat again, back from another dreamlike adventure.

Earlier that day, Elena and Nik discussed which oil paintings to present at an upcoming art show. Elena suggested her version of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

 That thought transported me to Florence, 1482, where I “witnessed” Botticelli and Lorenzo de Medici’s conversation in the palace halls.

The enormity of these names—Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci—was nearly overpowering, even for a dream. I then discovered it wasn't 1482, but 1504.

 Florence was alive with enthusiasm as it celebrated the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary on the Piazza della Signoria.

Sleep tugged at me, but I swore I’d continue the story once I woke.

Episode Two: Michelangelo’s David and the Glory of Florence.

When I awoke, I found myself perched on the Palazzo Vecchio window ledge, surrounded by rival cats. From there, I had the perfect view of history unfolding.

A massive wagon drawn by three mules entered the square, carrying a monumental sculpture. At the front, with piercing eyes and commanding presence, stood Michelangelo Buonarroti.

Step by step, under his relentless guidance, the statue rose. The crowd gasped as ropes slipped, but strong arms rushed in to steady the colossal figure. Slowly, gracefully, the David ascended onto its pedestal.

Among the spectators stood Raphael, emotional and restless, nervously biting his nails. Leonardo da Vinci observed calmly from a distance, arms crossed, while Sandro Botticelli smiled warmly, radiating kindness.

By dusk, the scaffolding was gone. Trumpets sounded from the balcony, and Lorenzo de Medici bowed proudly to Michelangelo. As doves filled the evening sky, Florence embraced yet another masterpiece of the Renaissance.

I joined the cheering crowd, paws tapping in joy.

Modern Reflections: Reimagining Botticelli’s Venus.

Years later, art lovers from all over the world come to the Uffizi Gallery to see Botticelli’s original Birth of Venus. My hosts, Nik and Elena, also went there.

Elena came up with a whole new concept after looking at Botticelli's picture.
She saw not just Venus's beauty but also the hidden truth: women have always had a hard life, and they still do now.
Inspired, she painted her own modern interpretation of Botticelli’s Venus—the left side in blue tones symbolizing a fantasy dream.
The right side in grey shades represents the reality of a modern woman.