It was in the year seventy-seven AD, in the same Colonia Cornelia Veneria Pompeianorum, that it all began. The city, prosperous and peaceful under the reign of Vespasian, enjoyed an orderly life, governed by the laws of men and the protection of the gods.

The mornings passed as usual, enveloped in the bustle of the merchants on the Via dell'Abbondanza, while the soft murmur of whispered conversations in Latin and Greek drifted between the columns of the forum. The aroma of freshly baked bread escaping from the ovens mingled with the saltiness of the sea breeze coming in from the nearby Mediterranean, caressing the skin with the promise of another peaceful day. In the background, the imposing Vesuvius loomed, shrouded in a veil of steam that, though familiar, carried with it a barely perceptible unease, like a silent omen suspended in the air.

But even then, although I did not yet fully understand it, something dark was hovering over Pompeii. Sometimes, when the winds brought the echo of prayers in the temples, I felt that not only men were restless, but that the gods themselves began to look at us with indifference or perhaps contempt.

Header Image:

Image of Pompeii Source: italia.it