In Rome, the ancient and the modern are inexorably intertwined. In the morning, as I leave for work, I am greeted by the Teatro di Marcello, which was planned by Caesar and built by Augustus. Back at the height of the Roman Empire, the theater held 15,000 spectators. Later, it was turned into a fortress, then a palazzo, and now, two thousand years after its creation, it is still in use, with luxury apartments built on top. And you see this everywhere-bits of ancient walls or the arches of an aqueduct that have become part of a building's foundation; a field or park where suddenly the remains of an ancient villa or the crumbling walls of a public baths rear up. You get used to it. It becomes normal. So the other day when I walked out of my office to see the entire Roman Senate sitting outside Stage 15, wearing their white togas, eating box lunches, smoking cigarettes, and talking on cellphones, I barely even processed it. It wasn't until later, sitting in the car on the way home, that I thought, some day I'm going to wish I had taken a picture of that.