When I was a child, I found myself attracted to the Virgin Mary, or at least to her representation on a small piece of wood hanging in my aunt’s kitchen in rural Romania. I grew up among many religious icons - interpretations and representations of the Divine, but while crucifixions scared me, the image of Mary was reassuring; mysterious and beautiful, complex, vulnerable and strong - she was the archetypal girlfriend.
I know this might sound as weird as entertaining fantasies about the Statue of Liberty, but I lived on
