I'm fascinated a wealth of topics and ideas—as those around me suffering through a winding, geeky conversation can attest—two of which happen to be ancient civilizations and the incredible ability of the Internet to tell me where I've been when I've failed to take decent notes.

Take this place, for example.

This is the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina in the old Roman Forum. Now, the trick with this is, I knew generally where we were (right down the block from the Colosseum in the old city) in Rome. I could even tell you who was standing next to me (Kristen and Sheena). That's about it. I could walk you there, if we stood in that area, sure. However, I hadn't the faintest idea what this building was nor had I the foresight to take even the slightest interest in documenting the location ("heck, I took a picture, right?"). I didn't even remember that this was in the Roman Forum, for that matter.

So, I start on Google maps, zoom in to the Colosseum easily enough, and then "walk" my way down the street to the corner where this building is, recognize it on the map itself, find a few surrounding quickly identifiable landmarks, do another search for Roman Forum landmark maps, and *boom* goes the dynamite.

This isn't the first time nor do I expect it to be the last where I find myself on a semi-wild goose chase down the halls of the Internet for proper nouns. It's actually challenging and fun, especially in European cities. I take better notes, now, but at least I know when I'm unable to get the details, the friendly, nerdy Web has my back.

Larger version here: A Long Memory

Want more information? Check the reference below for links to both the worst sportscast in history (from whence the phrase, "boom goes the dynamite" originates) and the Wiki article on this cool temple.

All things are a reflection of ourselves, no matter how gruesome, grotesque or garish, revealing a part, large or small, of the nature and character of the world around.

Larger version here: Skyward Leaning

Duke Energy Center in Charlotte, N.C., punctures the sky with its aggressive architecture. The skyline of Charlotte is an odd patchwork; there's no harmony, theme or consistency of look, design or intent. I'm no expert in urban design or architecture, but it seems a chaotic and haphazard patchwork of corporate assertions represented by steel and glass. Charlotte is relatively new, though, to the skyscraper game, so who knows how it will evolve and play out over the next few decades.

Larger version here: Takin' Care of Business

Stoic, stalwart and steadfast. For year upon year, this fellow has looked out over Venice, guarding and guiding.

Larger version here: Pride and Prejudice