“That’s why I smile,” Lisa said. “Not for the scholars. Not for the crowds. For the one girl who needs to see that a woman can be looked at, dissected, mythologized—and still remain herself.”
The girl had wiped her nose on her sleeve. She had nodded once, as if receiving a reply. Then she had walked away, shoulders straighter. Mona Lisa Smile
The Flemish merchant adjusted his ruff. “To be fair, it is a very good three centimeters.” “That’s why I smile,” Lisa said
Lisa looked back at the empty rope. “Because once, a young woman stood there. Maybe seventeen. She was alone, which was unusual. Everyone else had phones, guidebooks, groups. But she just… stood. And she looked at me not like a puzzle, but like a person.” “That’s why I smile