Color-Man, 18 June, Rome, Italy

On the eighteenth day of the sixth month, as I sit on a rocky ledge, I lift up my eyes, and behold, the Colosseum. It is colossal. The high north-east wall is made of blocks of stone, with three floors of arches beneath, arches like Busch stadium. The sun is setting and Drew has his camera on to catch the fullness of night.

Here on this dusty ground stood a Roman sentry or centurion. And there inside the Colosseum, men became judges of life and at the turn of a thumb, gladiators would die. Beast tore beast, man slew man. From Rome, there went out commands to all the world: Capture Jerusalem, Attack the tribes in the north, Send the fleet to Carthage. Roman soldiers crucified Jesus and a Roman spear pierced his side. The world was subdued before them.

And Rome was also home to another great empire, the Roman Catholic Church. It held sway over the hearts of countless men and moved kings and countries. Truly, Rome was highly exalted! But it was brought down. The bows of its mighty men are broken.

I see two homeless men. I feel more sympathetic to them now, after a week of traveling and lack. The excitement at a good find, the boredom and the reproach, the seeing and not having, eating, but never filled, people staring. But these men live like that every day. That is far beyond me.

Sam