We wandered through the ruins of the Roman Forum, feeling the sun’s heat of antiquity among the chipped stone walls. The edge of the Farnese Gardens reached out above the city. Thousands of years of history spread out before us.
I climbed on the wall and gazed at the dusty pathway below me. “Attention, hein ?” said a French traveller, “C’est assez dangereux, ça.”
I grinned. Here I was, nineteen years old, standing in the ancient heart of the Roman Empire. My thoughts turned to the myths of Romulus and Remus, raised by a wolf on the Palatine Hill. My fingers brushed the timeless wind. I jumped.
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It all began with Degas.
Walking through the Musei Vaticani
Taking shelter in the Sala Rotunda on a rainy day