So the Anna Chapman dish continues to flower. Oddly, I found my heart-strings twanging out a solemn dirge as I read about Ms. Chapman's most recent public appearance. I can only wonder if her adoring audience didn't just watch their heroine have her heart torn out before the people of the Earth, the Universe, and Everything.
Surely the strategists love the beautiful woman to be at repose with the image of the lion and the hue of international serenade. Surely the woman, now deemed muse of the political youth, would defy the rift of the stage to rise up singing with her people.
Is this salvation? Would Ms. Chapman, in trouble due to her long term application of Faith against odds in a shattering world, dare whisper to a single soul if she suddenly realized a misunderstanding from her earliest youth? What if it took the sight of the lion to know that it was not her lion brought, but again one with which she must bite her tongue, bind her heart, and persevere.
Even the possibility is horrific. We outsiders will likely never know without a time of signs and wonders what goes in the true hearts of our compatriots.
Ms. Chapman, wherever you are, a Blessed New Year to you. If you should read this, please pass on an American blessing to the Tiger as well. It isn't as if cursing a Tiger will chip fang or claw, though the Opposition now falling will wish otherwise. You should know better than I what to do with Bears, just make sure they are confident that Winter coats will grow thick each year and they will love you.
P.S. The best surprises are first rumors, then vapor, then true. Oh My!!!