14 years ago, I stood on Brighton’s shores, and a lyric from R.E.M.’s "Mad World" floated into my mind. Why that one? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the way the wind tugged at everything—the pier, the buildings, even me—like it was trying to rewrite history. Brighton, once so vibrant, now feels like a postcard from another time. The facades along the pier? They've held their ground, even as the sea's wind tirelessly gnaws away at them. Resilient. Weathered. Beautiful. That kind of beauty hits differently, doesn’t it?
It reminds me of Finale Ligure. Have you been? The Roman walls there—still standing, still guarding—make you stop and think about everything they’ve witnessed. Time may have softened its edges, but that only adds to the allure. These places, they force you to slow down. To reflect.
Isn’t it interesting how the wear and tear of time can make something more captivating, not less? These aren’t just places; they’re stories. And they’re still being told.
