Image Junkyard 3, Week 1

"PompeiViva" scrolls in strong capitals across every protective iron gate barring us from the ruins of a sprawling city, a maze of colors rubbing off from stone and crushed stone. The red poppies bloom their thin, red mouths here as they do in each train yard in Italy. I've seen them everywhere but Rome, where the massive interlocking cobblestones flatten them, though they bloom in the Forum, set apart by the ropes. Pompeii is not alive, but the vineyards are, vines tied and green among the rubble.