From the midnight sun to the city of eternal sunset. Rome, the color of dusk, the buildings a range of ochre, centuries of dust clinging to the stones. We visited the Capuchin Crypt on the posh Via Veneto, thousands of bones ignorant to the changing times, the rise in prices. Bones sculpted into the image of the friars they once were. A skull winged with pelvic bones; a frank reminder that time flies. In death, the great equalizer, all skulls look alike, all shin bones are the same length. The friars’ pocket watches tick incessantly, time moves on. “What you are now, we once were; what we are now, you shall be.” Rome, an urban museum, an open grave.