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A coastal city on the shore of the Mediterranean's gleaming, turquoise and tempest waves, she is arguably much older than Rome's fabled founders, Romulus and Remus; far more steeped in traditions that beat like a heart's torrid rhythm, pounding out every step in a forbidden dance of desire.

She is Pompeii. And she is an all-devouring Mistress. Mother to all form of satyr and nymph, where the wine flows freely and the Dance of Syrtos never ends.

Voices of Pompeii
Graffiti inscriptions left upon the walls and doors all around the city are one of the ways in which the Pompeians expressed themselves - and often humorously. The graffiti was very popular here and was most often written in the common Latin Vulgaris.

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OUT OF POMPEII
by William W. Campbell
(used on application template)

She lay, face downward, on her beaded arm, In this her new, sweet dream of human bliss.

Her heart within her fearful, fluttering, warm, Her lips yet pained with love's first timorous kiss.

She did not note the darkening afternoon. She did not mark the lowering of the sky.

O'er that great city, Earth had given its boon.. Unto her lips, love touched her and passed by.