What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
T.S. Eliot

The ruined remains of what was once a bustling capital city almost a thousand years ago. As the time flies by, and so do the clouds above, there is an eerie stillness of being caught up in a time warp here. As if you are somewhere you ought not to be, somewhere outside of time itself, and perhaps, just perhaps, you are not really there.

Skin Deep Frailty

It came down to this after all; and had it not been for a rush of blood to the head, I might have still known life.

A City in Ruins. A Child in Youth. And the story goes on.