The sunlight filtered through the clouds spottily dancing across an ancient path where long gone Roman ancestors had once travelled. Even now, at a fragment of their original splendor, these colossal structures of smooth eroded brick and partially restored marble still contained a few ounces of magic within them that would captivate any visitor.
It is in these ruins that I found a sapling, peeking out from the crevices of remnants of centuries past, welcoming the future.
During my time in Rome, I couldn’t help but notice all of the greenery that filled the city in even the most unexpected places. It really struck me that unlike New York, or other cities I’ve been, where trees had their designated little soil bins spaced every couple of yards apart, in Rome, the trees hang over the highways, the grass crops up in between the cobblestones and saplings take root in ancient stone columns.
As the moss climbed over the fallen pillars, and the cobblestones hid themselves between the blades of grass, these precious moments reminded me just how fleeting our civilizations are compared to mother nature and her everlasting beauty.
