Reminiscing Squandered Chances
I suppose Octavian's... Impulsiveness conditioned me to going without the streets of Rome. Even still, I miss them.
Oh, they stank of every imaginable stench there is and even on litter, the traffic was a nightmare. But with all of that, they were Rome's lifeblood.
I find myself thinking back, sometimes. Before the children. Before everything, really. The times when I was little and it was all new. Even amidst the familiarity of it all, without it near you, without the chance to... I suppose revisit, yes? Because you always can... You can travel back to those old places, should the mood take you. And without that, life seems a little hollow.
Even with Mark Antony and that whore of an Egyptian witch-slut being paraded down them, I think... I can identify, somewhat, with those tales of ancestors' ghosts wandering down those same streets. I think I might now, should I ever go back.
And what a bitter, fucking disgrace it is, hmm? Having even a chance like that stolen away.
Oh, they stank of every imaginable stench there is and even on litter, the traffic was a nightmare. But with all of that, they were Rome's lifeblood.
I find myself thinking back, sometimes. Before the children. Before everything, really. The times when I was little and it was all new. Even amidst the familiarity of it all, without it near you, without the chance to... I suppose revisit, yes? Because you always can... You can travel back to those old places, should the mood take you. And without that, life seems a little hollow.
Even with Mark Antony and that whore of an Egyptian witch-slut being paraded down them, I think... I can identify, somewhat, with those tales of ancestors' ghosts wandering down those same streets. I think I might now, should I ever go back.
And what a bitter, fucking disgrace it is, hmm? Having even a chance like that stolen away.