Can't Help But Wonder... What's a Woman to Do When the World's Not Built for Her?

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You know how sometimes you finish a book, and it just… sits with you? Not just on your nightstand, but right there, in the back of your mind, prompting all sorts of internal monologues. Well, I just closed the last page of "Signora da Vinci," and let me tell you, my brain is officially buzzing.

This book, this story, a captivating blend of fiction and non-fiction, it’s a revelation. In a world, a country, really where men called all the shots, where a woman’s "place" was firmly defined and frankly, quite limiting, we meet a spirit who simply refused to be confined. I mean, imagine wanting to run your own business, having the smarts and the drive, but the only way to make it happen is to… well, disguise yourself as a man? Talk about a creative solution to a glass ceiling!

What really hit home for me was her sheer strength. Here she is, navigating this incredibly restrictive society, finding ways to not only survive but to truly thrive on her own terms. And through it all, her absolute determination to stay close to her son, Leonardo da Vinci, a bond that transcends societal norms and personal disguises. It makes you think about the lengths a woman will go, the masks she’ll wear, for love, for ambition, for family.

But then, just when you think you’ve got her figured out, she finds love. And not just any love, but with Lorenzo Medici, the original 'it' boy of Florence, practically a king in his own right. To carry such a monumental secret, to build a life, a connection, and then to consider letting that vulnerability show to someone so powerful? That takes a tremendous amount of courage. It’s the ultimate gamble, isn't it? Trusting someone with the very essence of who you are, especially when that "who you are" could upend everything.

This book isn't just a historical tale; it's a conversation starter about resilience. It's about women finding their voice, their power, and their own path, even when every door seems to be slammed shut. It’s about the quiet revolutions we wage just by being ourselves, or sometimes, by cleverly pretending to be someone else, just to get a foot in the door.

So, I’m wondering, what secrets are we all holding onto? And when do we decide that the risk of revealing them is worth the reward of truly being seen? Because, just like Signora da Vinci, sometimes the greatest strength lies in shedding the disguise.