Stood in the ruins of ancient Rome, the sky was momentarily darkened by the passage of a million starlings.
For a second, they changed the world, then vanished from sight.
Something like that, in a place like this, can make you wonder what you’re doing with your life.
But I’ve never had time for nonsense like that.
I’m not here to build empires, or raise columns, or conquer Persia. These guys did, and their marks still fade away.
I am driftwood. I am a migrant. I am Ozymandias. And I’m here to enjoy the journey, not worry about my footprints.