Some cities you photograph in daylight. Rome, I think, was drawn for the lamps.

Rome, August 18, 2024. I walked the city after the rain, when the cobblestones held the lamplight like shallow pools. A curved neoclassical facade glowed over a damp piazza, statues along its roofline keeping watch over a few late cars. Down the way, an old brick basilica was lit warm from below, its arches set saints leaning into the dark. Rome does good fountains. An older couple stood embracing at the basin's edge while a tall jet rose behind them. The square was nearly empty, just the water climbing and falling in tiers. One small thing I keep noticing in Rome at night: the city is built to be seen by lamplight. The travertine, the niches, the curved colonnades, the wet stone underfoot, they were all designed to catch a warm, low light and throw it back softer. Daylight shows you Rome's bones. Night shows you what the architects were actually drawing for.