Pray for Casanova

I am fascinated by the beautiful who become deformed. Some become bitter, bitter than those born less pulchritudinous. Most learn to cope with the loss. Some were blind to how much their beauty helped them, the halo of their hotness an invisible bumper softening life. But most cultivated this aspect to some degree. They knew what was up. But none were fully prepared for the anti-halo: the revulsion, the active disgust. They became monsters. This is what it means to be marred. In 1715 England, none were beautiful than Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whose mind was as fine as her complexion.