I gaze at the Forum of Nerva ruins.
At first, it’s just chunks of broken stone and marble.
Scattered, crumbling walls. Nothing unusual.
Then I realize.
I’m not looking across it.
I’m looking down.
The Nerva Forum sits twenty feet below where I stand.
The ground didn’t drop.
It rose over two thousand years.
Tiber floods. Sediment. Collapsed buildings.
Layer by layer, century after century.
Rome built over itself—until the ancient one was buried from view.
And people carried on.
The odd perspective is not just here.
Across the street, you see the same.
The Roman Forum sits far below the modern city.




