The colosseum came into existence in front of my eyes. While rapping I was brought back, I can't say to reality though because it felt like a dream. I heard him in my mind, "If you find yourself alone... do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium, and you're already dead!" Maximus!!! I tell myself as He continued "what we do in life... echoes in eternity" shivers down my spine, I'm emotional.
I find my tourist guide and as usual, they ask for everyone's name and where they are from, I say "I'm Daniel Letona from Boston". This is something that has been bothering me lately, I keep saying I'm from Boston. When I catch myself saying this I correct it "Im originally from Honduras but have lived in Boston for the last 8 years". No one really cares but I feel ashamed by the thought of possibly losing my roots. We walk into this structure which feels familiar, I've obviously seen it in movies but there is something more.
The guide is trying to develop rapport with a couple, the tourist says her husband is a gladiator fan, aren't we all I think, to which the guide replies you are the wife of the gladiator then. This stuck with me, gladiators became gods in the arena. It must be hard to be married to a god, especially to a mortal one, everyone celebrates his victories but only she will cry his death. I try to let that thought go away I want to absorb as much as I can.
As we enter the colosseum, I learn the word gladiator comes from the Latin gladius which means sword. A Gladiator would train daily with a wooden sword, and then in battle, he would have to prove he was worthy of life in front of thousands. His dedication to the craft could ascend him from a slave who no one cared for, to a god who everyone cheered for. A gladiator could earn his freedom, by receiving a wooden sword a symbol of mastery of craft. I understood at that moment that it is easier to be a god than a freeman, gods are enslaved to tasks, Apollo has to bring the sun, Morpheus takes us to sleep, Gladiators fight and the list goes on and on but a freeman, he can choose to be anything and isn't this why I am here? full of anxiety because I'm finally a free man.
I was a curious kid, this didn't sit well with the social construct I was born in. Im from Honduras a place where dreams are a privilege, not a right and there is a huge emotional tax a dreamer must pay. I don't know how to live without a dream, and I don't know how to live in a place where dreams are the reason for mockery. It all starts making sense why I keep saying Im from Boston. If I was still home, I would be nobody my voice would be unheard, I would barely make a living. How contradictory, Im worth so much in one place and so little in another, everything starts to connect slowly. My gladius is my curiosity and my intellect manifested as code. I was never praised for teaching myself how to code in 6th grade or learning quantum physics, this was weird and hinted at as useless. "Stop with the computer, improve your handwriting", "he is just a lazy, terrible kid", "He will never be someone in life". "Let the past be", people say but trust me It's a lot to hear from a young age for your entire life. Why would you keep improving or trying when no one sees value in you?
Boston, allowed me to prove myself though, it allowed me to accomplish things only I saw for myself. Walk-in halls that were my inspiration, MIT, Harvard the kid who fails classes, "who doesn't have what it takes to be an engineer", proving his worth. If I was back in Honduras the country I love so much, I would be struggling emotionally, mentally, and economically. This is probably what my subconscious had realized. Boston became my colosseum and gave me my freedom, this is why I feel the person who is writing this belongs there. Im not losing my roots but I am no longer just a kid from Honduras, I am a free man, freed by my craft in a city thousands of miles away from where I was born. Honduras but also Boston is who I am...
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