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Temple of Castor and Pollux: Rome

By Sarah Litsey / June 14, 1983



How should three slender columns tilt the mind toward music? - song at the heart of silence the cool clear notes of a bird - Aloof, with the vestal purity of young girls, acanthus curls bound by the broken pediment, they rise into air above the ravaged forum, all that patient wreckage of conquest, glory. Purged of the dark, outrageous tug of history they stand as they have stood for centuries, pale and composed an unstrung harp for the wind. Listen! It is the hum of time you hear.

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