Caravaggio's Gaze

He was known along the spice routes as Winston—a winged oracle draped in imperial tones, fluent in five dialects and seventeen unspoken truths. Sailors brought him rubies, sultans offered silk, yet he accepted only stories and the occasional mango. Here, in chiaroscuro reverence, we find him once more: feathers burnished by the dying light, claws steady as a banker’s promise, eye trained on an intrigue just outside the frame. This is no mere parrot—it’s a memoir with wings. Frame this in your salon—near the globe bar or beneath the taxidermied marlin—and summon the spice-scented winds of empires past.