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(Currier and Ives image)

Did you see Kim Kardashian’s toddler daughter, North West,

addressing the paparazzi with an authoritative:I said no pictures!’?

Yes.  She looked quite cute in her designer jacket and tutu, but

imagine having to be so media savvy from such a young age.

A lot of girls who are not that much older are desperate to

attract media attention, I remarked.

But some people maintain discretion, Brassie reminded me.  Not

everyone is narcissistic.

I often wondered what Photini would have done after she met

Jesus, I mused.  I bet she wouldn’t have asked to take a selfie

with Him.

Who’s Photini?  Brassie asked.  Her name sounds like something

to do with photos, so maybe she would have sold her story to the local

Nablus rag.

No, she sounded as if she had more respect, I decided.  How

about the following villanelle for an exploration of the encounter?

Villanelle?

Listen!

(Matson Photo Service, Matson Collection,

Library of Congress)

JACOB’S WELL

They labelled me: The Woman at the Well –

Put in the Pitcher by a Nazarene!

They said I had a story that would sell.

Swine rooted round me, snuffling at the smell

of scandal – reckless as those Gadarene.

They labelled me: The Woman at the Well…

and camped outside my house, convinced I’d tell;

amazed that He should speak to the unclean

and said I had a story that would sell.

Some vowed He’d mesmerised me; cast a spell

on me; elaborated what they’d seen.

They labelled me: The Woman at the Well…

Those paparazzi made my life sheer hell.

Why not take the shekels and spill the beans?

They said I had a story they could sell.

Rabboni’s Living Water seemed to quell

my raging thirst.  Now I know what peace means.

They labelled me: The Woman at the Well

who had a Story that she Wouldn’t F***ing Sell!

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