On our second day in Rome the rain stops for a while. It sits sulkingly in big bluegrey rain-clouds in the sky, the bright sun behind obscured but every now and again using a gap in the clouds to remind us what this city should really be like.

We take a walk through the city, through the puddled cobbled streets and bemoistened textured walls of the old town and down to the river Tiber.

The walk along the Tiber is quiet of people. We are only joined every now and again by a few homeless individuals tending to themselves in their little box-villages under the bridges. We pass a man who, among his two or three worldly possessions (all of which are spread out in front of him) is a mirror. He ignores us as we pass, prefering instead to inspect himself in the mirror. Only in Italy would the homeless care so much of their personal image.

The river rushes with the renewed vigor of the recent rains.The rivers banks seem to glow a mossy green. The sun sets sheepishly behind St Pauls and a tranche of dirty clouds.



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