We don't get to choose our infatuations. When I was a child, Peewee Herman was speaking my language. As a teen, Les Mis was playing in my discman as often as Downward Spiral or Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. And then, somewhere in my early twenties, good old Emperor Caligula fell into my lap and it's been a love affair ever since. 

​

There's something endearing about his mania and trying to separate the real from his successors intent to diminish Caligula's line. I, for one, like to believe all the stories. Erecting a needless, though lavish, floating bridge over the Bay of Baiae, thus throwing his realm into a famine out of spite for a prophet. Waging a war against Neptune, and compelling his soldiers to collect shells as proof of their victory. Deifying his sister?

​

And speaking of his sister, Drusilla... What on earth was time in the palace like for her? Adored (allegedly too adored) by her all-powerful brother, honored in life, along with her sisters, upon the coinage of the land, and for whom in death, even apotheosis wasn't sufficient. 

​

​