The Sack of Rome

If you think that this is the right place at the right time, you're wrong.
Oh so, so wrong.
Rome went mad. It became a huge lunatic metropolis, infested with lost souls looking for their way to Paradise in the wrong spot.
Outside, no cars. No human noise. No food. No reality.
Just people, walking in silence.
And helicopters.
And more people.
And security agents dressed in orange with silly hats.
And even more people.
And more.
Richard Long is giving a conference at the British School right now.
No one can attend because there's no way of getting there.
And I suffer in agony once again.
Well, there's no place like home.
I'll treat myself with some fresh pasta, read the description of the Sack of Rome by my beloved Cellini and dream I was, at least, in the 6th of May of 1527, when Rome was looted and burned by the barbarian Frrrench. I will help to protect the invasion of the holy city with all my heart and soul, defending a scared pope and frightening the unwelcome invasors from the inside of Castello St Angelo.
And Benedetto will be at my side.
All night long.
And the postmodern revision of history, and it's repetition will never happen. Never. Ever.