Tall, narrow alleys with twisting cobblestone roads. Hundreds of balconies with no one on them. The cars that hiss by my bedroom window. Mindless foreign chatter on the tram that becomes one continuous tone of blissful white noise. These are the sights and sounds experienced in Rome.

Often I'll walk down a busy street, but rather weaving in and out of the unfamiliar pedestrians, I'll make a quick right into an alley unbeknownst to me and stop in my tracks. The alley is shockingly empty of people, yet so full of life. Evidence of life. Evidence of history and time that seems to have been stunned centuries ago. Different colored linens are hung to dry on strings that run overhead from window to window. But no people. Beautifully aged walls of brick and stone, complimented by the colorful graffiti of today's misunderstood artists. The vines of thick, healthy leaves running up the sides of the brick whisper to me the time they spent to reach that 4th story balcony. A man ahead turns the corner and begins walking towards my direction. I continue on, feeling lucky to have witnessed the true beauty of Rome. The absence of people in this city seems to remind me that it doesn't matter what year it is or who won the world cup match, because the Colosseum is still standing and the stones of thousands of years have not fallen. They may have withered, but still stand. And when my plane lands back home, I will keep that in my head to remind myself what it truly means to be here at this very moment in time.