Farfallin2S

Meet the promised peripheral Italian saint: Santa Farfallina di Sestri Levante. She hops and hovers atop the mountains of Liguria preaching permanent dissent, infinite patience, stubborn endurance and selective schadenfreude. “Hear ye, hear ye!” she cries. “Do not tolerate the intolerable! Take comfort in the modest fact that you are not Dominic Cummings. Live your lives as if the R-Evolution was possible. Resist and bite.” And so on. So far she hasn’t converted many people, but the Floaters and the mountain Trotters absolutely love her. She subsists on offerings from the local Shoggoths and the odd contribution from the Shub-Niggurath, who has a secret hidey-hole under the Lanterna in Genoa. The santina herself has a pintsized pied-a-terre in Piazza Campetto, where she throws occasional small parties for a selected crowd of mad poets, avant-garde dancers and notorious cat chroniclers. Her feast day is a movable feast, naturally.
NB. This is mostly for don Attilio “El Caffarenito”, who will get all the in-jokes.