End of Pagans, a Review of the Satyricons (Fellini's and Petronius's)

I have something that pains me to say. As much as you may want to climb the massive granite steps of the bathhouse, stand beneath the glorious painted arches of the city of Rome, or hold the beautiful Giton between your arms, it cannot happen, that world does not exist, and has not for more than a thousand years. Even if it was possible, could you? Could you walk down the noisy alleys, between the prostitutes, the thieves, the ill, the dying, the livestock, the children? Would you want to? Would you want to live your life naked, sweating, dirty, and insignificant?