Rome distills the essence of a city shaped by power, ruin, and reverence. Centered on the spectral form of the Colosseum, the image captures a structure suspended between permanence and erosion. Its stone arches flicker through layers of time, while the upper tiers fade into blinding light—suggesting ascension, disappearance, or transcendence.

There are no markers of the present here. No signage, no figures. Only the architecture of memory—weathered, emptied, luminous. Rome is not depicted as a place of conquest or tourism, but as a spiritual residue: what remains when history exhales, and only presence lingers.

In this work, the city becomes a vessel not for victory, but for silence. An elegy in golden stone.