Rome- Day Five

Ok. I am extremely sick. And I am very sorry to say that this happens often when I go on vacation. My headache has developed into a cold/headache/dripping nose/fever. Unfortunate but I tried not to let it affect me as I ventured forth into the scalding heat of Rome.
Why do they make vacations in summer? It's so hot. They should be in Winter so you can visit the places people want to see like Rome or Egypt. But people want to see those because they're sunny right? Like the tropics. Ugh. I hate sun. Wait, I know why they have vacations in summer! Because your brain melts and school is already pretty tough on some people that with the extra adage of no brain it might become impossible. Alright I'll stop. I just don't like heat. One more time, I don't LIKE HEAT!!!!
Ok, it's out of my system.
So! Venturing forth through the... heat.... of Rome. Heat that was so intense I might add that we crossed paths with a bus driver that was sleeping in his luggage compartment (of the bus not his... what would his even be? His pocket?). We visited Caracala, which is no where near anything else so we marched through the... heat... to the 'non-catholic' (or non-christian I don't remember) graveyard where Keats was buried. His gravestone doesn't have his name on it. He considered his importance so brief and inconsequential that he asked that his grave have written on it, 'His name was writ in water'. His friend Severn, in whose arms Keats died, was buried next to him and his gravestone tells us of his neighboring grave and its occupant.
I find that... very touching and very sad. I feel like, in that time especially, it must have been something really hard, or strange, to decide. But then again, we know his name, and his friend was of uncommon loyalty.
Wouldn't you wish to have a friend like that?