On the northern tip of Africa, near some of the most productive agricultural lands of the ancient Mediterranean, a small horn juts into the open sea. The phoenicians settled there, and laid the foundations for an independent colony, Carthage. Over time, it became one of the most important cities in the world, the head of an empire that rivaled Rome. Rivaled, but eventually succumbed. After a three year siege, the city fell. The Romans systematically burned the buildings to the ground, destroyed the walls, and (likely false) salted the earth to prevent any crops from growing. The Romans maintained a presence among the ashes for the next hundred years, ensuring that anyone who attempted to settle in the region was killed. Then, they built the city anew, right on the same spot. They spent thirty years building the public baths, importing the best marble from around the entire empire. Now, here's a poem
I met a traveller from an antique land who said,
In a vast and barren field, a tethered mongrel,
Whose mewling protest rolls and fades
Unheard among the wastes,
Will die the solitary witness
To a majesty's disgrace.
So I called the old dimwit's bluff,
Not wont to trust too soon,
And went out to his described place.
I found a happy barking dog and a market
selling the best tangerines I've ever tasted in my life.
Delicious,
walter