Sitting at a cafe in Barcelona I am writing a blog post about our stay in Roma. Apparently the art of resting before you are tired (laziness) is as endless as it is fruitless.
I suppose that it was so hard to write about Roma while staying there because Roma had so captivated my imagination. I could as soon stop myself from imaging her past glories as I could stop myself from breathing; I felt that the effects would be the same should either occur. All my life has been spent in one story or another and most stories share something with Roma.
The Eternal City is so named because it has been an active human settlement for thousands of years. She gave birth to one of the greatest empires of the ancient world. This Roman Empire shaped a large portion of the world that I inhabit. After Roma lost her Empire she gained the seat of one of the top three religions on Earth, Catholicism. She is skinned with modernity; gelaterias, trattorias, osterias, bars, and cafe’s. Vespas and Fiats brrap-tap-tap their tattered sonic tattoos across her surface, circling venerable ancients such as the Pantheon and the Colosseum. Where her modern skin wears thin her archaic bones peak through and tell us, the living, titillating tales of gladiatorial games, senatorial simulacrums, empirical extravagance, religious revelation, and even fascist futility. I could continue waxing poetic about her illustrious history, her inevitable downfall, her glorious renaissance, but thickly built tomes have already been constructed for her past to inhabit.