A little door (Episode 3)

About 5 minutes later, I sat on the terrace of Castel San Pietro, a renaissance hillfort on top of a 2000-year-old Roman theatre complex in Verona, Italy. The sunset was painting the city in shades of orange and red. I was assuming it has done so for millennia – it certainly has for decades, as this has been my retreat of choice for at least 15 years. The evening breeze was pleasant, and one could hear the city traffic faintly, like a whisper in the distance. I thought that even traffic can be beautiful if it fits the scenery. It felt like time was standing still, looking at the roman stones which had stood the test of time. In my rollercoaster-life, this place remained strangely unchanged. As I sat here, I remembered the countless times I had watched the sunset in the city before, with people who have come and gone sitting with me. Maybe I missed some of them, maybe I just missed the person I used to be when sitting with them. But then again, the certainty that these stones will be here long after I am gone and that I was just a piece in the millennial puzzle of this city gave me a strange comfort. As I smiled, I realized that thousands must have found it before me in the very same spot.

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