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Rome knows how to be imposing and impressive and important – its aesthetic is powerful, not beautiful.   An ancient thing pretending to belong in a modern world; impassive, imperial, superior.   The homeless sleep in the doorways of the Vatican souvenir shops, the pickpockets loll about the Forum ruins, and when in Rome, you now do as the tourists do.

Thus the Pantheon rises, implacable about the ridiculous clatter and clutter of the small-minded mortals who shuffle about the circle of its interior as dusk falls and the full moon wanes.   Flash bulbs explode foolishly as amateur photographers lean over their cameras for snapshots of their own heads framed by the famous hole in the momentous domed ceiling.

I’m standing there, in the central sphere on the tiled mosaic of the floor.   Darkening sky reversed above, inane buzzing throng milling about me.   Wheels within wheels.
In my hand the fucking stupid letter I fucking stupidly promised Kane to deliver to his fucking stupid internet girlfriend.

There are no good turns.

In the round, the churning kaleidescopic crowd are making their own mosaic, clicking around a dark center – the black hole in their midst that could suck the life from them, and who they unconsciously circle away from.

Thus I stand.   Untouched.   Opening, closing, girls passing, looking, waiting, tourist spokes are grinding exceedingly small…

Until, in due course…

The circle breaks.


And then – of course – another circle is complete.


Of course.

There she is.







  1. Somehow I knew it would be her…..she is always playing games. To bad really…seems Kane is going to loose another “Girlfriend”.

  2. Ha! Guess you can’t accuse me of not paying attention, huh?

    Yeehaw, here we go.

  3. u inlayed a little incrustation of poetry in the mosaic : )

  4. Fuck. Beautifully written.

  5. well… ,i think Amelia will need to explain us something .

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