Fernando Botero’s nudes are a regal sort of fat, bursting with pride and vigor, Rubenesque rather than rolling with folds. They’re plump but firm. Here’s a man, standing in the mall near my office at Columbus Circle.

He’s elegant, right? There’s all confidence, no shame in that face. He’s a serene and bold protector, a powerful peaceful agent from the land where indulgence never hurt anyone and guilt never lasts long.

It takes some time, but curiosity wins out, and you just have to touch his hand. Everyone does. Everyone and everything.

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