“It says here that when Leonardo Da Vinci died, he asked forgiveness for not using his art to the fullest of his abilities. That somehow, he had failed God and mankind.”  A lanky man with a thick red scarf around his neck folded his newspaper, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and turned to his companion not expecting an answer. The two men had stopped to take a break from their afternoon walk, sitting down on a bench overlooking a stretch of beach that surrendered to waves, the bay, then out to the ocean. “Guilt.” “Excuse me?” “He was Catholic, wasn’t he?” “And what does that have to do with anything?” “The old boys back then probably made him feel guilty because he couldn’t turn clay into gold. I can see it now, ‘Yo Leo, one more thing from that brain of yours, the whole gold thing, how does it work? The Pope, he’s counting on you. You know, no one will remember you for the shit painting of the half smiling bitch, but man if you could let us know how to turn mud into gold, then you would be immortal. Otherwise, I’m guessing the world forgets you in … Continue reading The Death of Leonardo