I feel very small there, nothing more than a infantecimal blip in the existence of these monoliths, unworthy of their presence. I can’t help but think about the glories and travesties that have happened there. The joy and heartbreak of life so many centuries ago.
However, what those stones have seen is past, the blood and tears have washed away. The violence of their destruction has been quiet for centuries. What remains are the ghosts of empires past in broken, muddy corridors, the wind guiding wandering souls curious of its tainted history.