passing by

It was Rome, with its dry flatness and ruvine around. Ten years ago, Jose, my best friend from high school, was waiting for me with a bacci mcflurry by Termini station; this time I was also meeting one of my best friends but from grad school, Shashwat. Rome, with its wide boulevard from Colisseum through Caesar’s forum, its plummeting structures, its Fontana, its pistaccio gelato, was charming, but it was only a pit stop.   From the Egyptian references to the carved marvel, I was captivated by the thought of Pompeii and its people burnt to its feet. Across the city, a mountain was in flames. In Ecuador, when I see this, I regularly call the fireguard. This time, impotent, I just turned to see the horizon. Pompeii was still burning, the mountains were still burning and Pink Floyd played live in the back. I couldn’t stop thinking about the conservation of our cultural heritage. How does humanity decide what is ‘worth’ preserving? Who makes this decision? Nowadays wi