There are cities I like, cities I admire and cities I would happily return to. And then there is Rome.

Rome has never occupied the same category for me.

I love it with the completely unreasonable attachment normally reserved for people, not places. I can criticise it, complain about it, point out everything that does not work and still become absurdly happy the moment I see a Roman street, an ochre wall, a pine tree or a piece of travertine in a photograph.

Part of that comes from the obvious thing: the history. But Rome is not fascinating because it has old buildings. Plenty of places have old buildings. Rome is fascinating because the past was never properly cleared away.