I enter the Roman Forum through the Arch of Constantine, white gravel crunching under my shoes as I descend into the ancient world.
The ruins - well below modern street level - stretch before me, magnificent white and gray marble, glowing in the sinking afternoon sun. Tourists drift past. I stop.
A woman passes on my right and leaves behind a trace of Italian perfume, something floral and warm.
I think about what this place smelled like two thousand years ago.
