Some time has passed since I left Rome...but Rome has never left me. Memories are the orphans of dead events, but let even the slightest act, sight or sound recur and the past is instantly reborn. And so it is with me. Constantly provoked by random thoughts, I retreat into a slideshow of vivid images of this European city.

A glass of red wine. I stare at it momentarily, then, suddenly, I'm back on the rooftop garden of the classic Hotel Mediterraneo that is perched regally on Esquilino Hill, the highest of the seven hills of Rome. Glass in hand, I wander about the flowered terrace, peering over the parapet at the city below. The night slowly draws a blanket over its many faces, but it doesn't dim the glory of the Eternal City. Buildings, monuments and fountains are bathed in flattering light, illuminating the darkening sky with an appropriate halo-like glow.

Nearby, and in the distance, I can identify notable landmarks such as the Fountain of the Naiads in the Piazza della Repubblica. The fountain is the work of sculptor Mario Rutelli and is one of the most beautiful in Rome, but only slightly over 100 years old. I know that from the plaza I can walk along the Via Nazionale and eventually arrive at the Piazza Venezia, or Town Hall Square, and the Capitol, an icon of Michelangelo's architectural genius. From its vantage point on another of Rome's hills, I can walk along the Via Sacra (Holy Way), where I'll be in the magnificent ancient ruins of the Roman Empire.

A marble table. As I run my hand over the smooth, hard surface of my coffee table, I envision the glorious sculpture and architecture by Michelangelo, Borromini, and Pietro and Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, among others. They must certainly have been inspired by the residual splendor of the Roman Empire. Michelangelo commented that the capitol hill was like the head of Rome, with its face first to its past (the ruins) and then to the new city. As I begin my descent along the Holy Way, my journey is one through the centuries. Ancient evidences, pagan and religious, surround me, and I'm cognizant that I'm walking on stones that felt the feet of emperors, soldiers, slaves, senators and noblemen.

Down the slope, toward the valley, I encounter the Temple of Saturn, eight massive columns still standing against the ravages of time and man. (CONTINUE...)