Πυγμαλίων: Pygmalion’s Creation

While you may choose to explore the many intriguing possibilities that the tale of Pygmalion (Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book 10) provokes, this story offers an euphemism for a caretaker of a bedridden person, profoundly troubled with the prospect of his/her own death and what would happen to the person he/she deeply loves. Pygmalion loathes their lascivious life, abhors all womankind, but most a wife: So single chose to live, and shunn'd to wed, Well pleas'd to want a consort of his bed. Yet fearing idleness, the nurse of ill, In sculpture exercis'd his happy skill; And carv'd in iv'ry such a maid, so fair, As Nature could not with his art compare, Were she to work; but in her own defence Must take her pattern here, and copy hence. Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires, Adores; and last, the thing ador'd, desires.

Πυγμαλίων: Pygmalion’s Creation

While you may choose to explore the many intriguing possibilities that the tale of Pygmalion (Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book 10) provokes, this story offers an euphemism for a caretaker of a bedridden person, profoundly troubled with the prospect of his/her own death and what would happen to the person he/she deeply loves. Pygmalion loathes their lascivious life, abhors all womankind, but most a wife: So single chose to live, and shunn'd to wed, Well pleas'd to want a consort of his bed. Yet fearing idleness, the nurse of ill, In sculpture exercis'd his happy skill; And carv'd in iv'ry such a maid, so fair, As Nature could not with his art compare, Were she to work; but in her own defence Must take her pattern here, and copy hence. Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires, Adores; and last, the thing ador'd, desires.

It has been three years since you were born.

And for three years, your life has been nothing but blossoming happiness. Every passing minute brings a new discovery of tender love. Every night is an overture to the dawn reborn, which outshines the luminosity and the warmth of yesterday. Every promise has been fulfilled, and every prayer will be answered.

Except for one.

You are a marble statue in the likeness of goddess Athena. You are completely and devastatingly immobile.

"How can I reciprocate the unfathomable devotion my lover has given me?” you struggle daily, “How can I requite Pygmalion's love?”

Your lover, Pygmalion, is also your creator. He is the most ingenious and skilled sculptor the world has ever known, to date (185 BCE).

As we speak, Pygmalion is, as always, at your side, chipping away at a block of marble.