Rome (I/IV) - Permanence through Record

The Arch of Titus is not simply a hunk of marble -- it's a memory carved in relief. On its inner walls, Roman soldiers carry the spoils of Jerusalem: the menorah, the trumpets, the sacred vessels. It was once a declaration of power, a monument to victory.

But the empire it celebrated is gone. The triumph it immortalized matters to almost no one passing beneath its shadow. And yet the arch still stands.

Photo taken by yours truly :)

That is the paradox of Rome. Its armies, emperors, and borders have long since faded, but the words -- whether in marble, mosaic, or manuscript -- endure. The permanence was never in the triumph itself, but in the decision to record it.

It's tempting to believe that what we build will last because it's mighty. The Arch of Titus teaches something sharper: the only victories that last are the ones preserved in language, symbol, and story. Without the inscription, the victory would be dust. With it, the moment survives centuries.

We will not all carve arches. Still, every one of us can leave something behind -- a thought, a sentence, a mark -- that might outlive us. Power is fleeting. The record is eternal.