Dear Rome,
It’s been a while since we last saw each other—about four years or so. Maybe four years is nothing for you, but for me, I feel like I’ve changed so much since then. But who knows, maybe I haven’t changed that much. I am still a traveler at heart, building bridges between places and people around the world.
Rome, at first, being surrounded by all the ancient things of your city made me uncomfortable. It was as if I had the eyes of history staring at me. All of these relics that have lasted throughout the years constantly reminded me of the human condition—that someday I will fade while your walls will still remain standing. Your legacy lasts centuries, and mine might last for only a moment.
It was then that I realized, Rome, we are not the same; you are dead, while I still live. I am made of flesh and you are made of stone. My time to shine, to burn the inner flame, and live in glory is now. I don’t want my time to be in vain.
Rome, if we are the architects of our own lives, I hope that the constructions of my days will be as enduring as your ancient stones. I want my moments to echo with significance, to make my fleeting existence as impactful as your timeless splendor.
As I continue my journey through life, I carry with me the lessons learned from your city: that while history may cast long shadows, it is the present that truly shapes our legacy. I strive to make each moment count, to live fully and authentically, and to keep building bridges between the places and people I meet.
Thank you, Rome, for reminding me of the fragility and the strength inherent in our human condition; that all we have is before us, now. And I know you are so much more than old stone. May we both continue to inspire, in our own ways, for as long as time allows.
Until next time,
Ross