His armbands were gold and laden with symmetrically placed jewels. With arms crossed, his dark eyes squinted through the sun rays that penetrated the thick forest canopy. A few workers looked up and noticed him, they peered quizzically at each other, one asking another if they recognized the man. No one did. He was gone when they looked again.

Several thousand miles away the Romans were beginning construction on the Colosseum. Hundreds of workers poured over thousands of tons of stone, carving and chiseling the pieces for assembly. A worker, sweat beading down his forehead, glanced over to see a Roman he didn’t recognize. His robes were immaculately fashioned and pressed. His forearms exposed, revealing gold bracelets. The worker paused and turned around, looking for the slave this master must own. He turned back to see the man was no longer there. The worker put down his hammer and chisel, ran to the location of where the man was and stood astonished at the 8 inch deep hole his feet left behind.