Some More Thoughts On The Metro

I prefer walking to my apartment over taking the metro or bus. The metro reminds me of my internship in New York City, of going to work, and the bus reminds me of the few times I was forced to take public transit in Los Angeles. When I’m at home, I drive. Do I need eggs and milk? I drive. Do I want to see a movie? Drive. I think the only time I don’t hop into a car is when I meet up with my friend Kaitlyn, and even then I only walk half a block so we can meet in the middle. But today I am in Rome, and tomorrow I will be too. Walking seems to be the best way to, for once, enjoy the city I am living in. When I strolled by the Coliseum yesterday, I was able to gaze at every crevice and crumbling piece of stone contained on it. I had time to imagine myself there, when it was built, wondering what I would see inside. When I was in a taxi, barreling down the road, away from the airport, I was able to glimpse at the Coliseum as we whisked by, but it didn’t seem real to me then, like an image on the TV, separated by glass. The only time I knew it was real was when I walked up to it and actually touched it.