Feathers guide me through this ancient city. Rubber sandals laden with the dust of 1000 seekers and maybe the dust from simple leather sandals of another time.
So familiar yet I hold no memory or history of this place. Has my soul walked these streets before? Narrow streets, faded frescoes, strange to my brain yet familiar to my soul.
Human sized rooms, walls painted with scenes of places lush and beautiful. Why this street feather? Why this room in this house? What story began in this room, this portion of a house, family, village.
All those voices are silent now.
Encased in glass a skeletal family of bones huddle together, mother, father and child. Frozen for millenniums in the ash of Vesuvius now white plaster reveals the bones of a dieing moment.
Did the hollow sockets I now gaze into hold my own eyes or the eyes of one whom I loved? It is for the living to remember the pleasure, pain, life and death lessons that these walls have witnessed.
My soul remembers, it touches my heart when I enter an ancient yet familiar room.