Recently I got unprecedented access to Knossos, where I swiftly engaged a Minoan lady (who shall remain nameless) to pose for what she thought would be a fresco in the south processional corridor.
Needless to say, at the time she was rather distracted, dwelling on cook Sama's legendary honey-cakes (on offer in the communal dining hall; I really ought to try some before leaving). She kept yammering on about them all the way across the central courtyard (middle image offered as evidence). She had also that morning received a posy from her hot, young, bull-leaper boyfriend. She doesn't look like someone a youth would want to bed (Photoshop works miracles on thick waists and sagging skin, believe me!), but the longing looks she kept drawing from the priests and male adorants we passed hinted at considerable amatory skills.
Ever wonder what "he loves me, he loves me not" sounds like in Minoan? Neither do I. Lady Pinaruti couldn't be stirred from contemplating her gift long enough to demonstrate how to write out the characters in Linear A, nor could she grasp why delicious young Itaya with his bulging codpiece wouldn't love her.
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