Walking by this old place, with its second-hand reminders everywhere scattered, I find myself reaching back to a time that never was.
What were once thought to be fancy and noble and honored were never more than just ordinary. And the ancients were flat-out dispatched by acts of villainy, if not by instruments now long ago forgotten – except as romance.
We can deceive ourselves with notions of antiquity; we can abandon today while cursing tomorrow.
But we, too, are centuries old, someday. And unlike anything anyone will willingly believe then.
When walking by.
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