The glory of the Colosseum once symbolized the peak of human resilience, the fight for survival in a world that demanded either victory or death. The crowd roared, hungry for blood or triumph, as men entered the arena knowing their fate hung in the balance of a single strike. Back then, a gladiator's life was simple: win, or face eternal silence. But that era of brutal certainty has faded like the dust beneath a fighter's feet.

Now, the world spins differently. The modern battleground is not a Colosseum, but a complex labyrinth of choices and compromises. The stakes are no longer as clear-cut, nor are the rules as rigid. It's not win or die anymore. There's a third way, a grey area that didn't exist before: win, survive, or die. Glory no longer exist in the colosseum of this reality, there are no rules here, no wrong or rights, morality is but a fickle thought.

So stealing is now encouraged, originality is downplayed as stubbornness, and when unruly or mannerless individuals appear, they are adorned as original. You see, it’s not only that we lost the concept of gladiators; confusion has set in with a high rise in lesser and lesser functioning willpower. As was once written, a socially manipulated crowd is what we are presented with.

There are no battles to be won against businesses, as employees would rather fight not for the company but for their survival regardless of the entity’s survival or demise, the bitter truth but yet the truth. In Africa, the struggle has taken on a different form. They don’t fight for glory they battle for survival, for food, for the right to live another day. Fame, once a shining goal, is now hollow. What is the worth of fame if it only feeds your ego and not your soul? Here, fame doesn’t fill bellies. Here, you don’t win by standing on a pedestal; you win by keeping your family fed, and by making it through the day without breaking.

Fame! What is that anymore?

A fleeting shadow. We once chased it like gold, shimmering, elusive. But in the cold reality of today, especially in Africa, fame is but a whisper to many in the wind. The true battle is now within, it's a battle for survival to the next day first before a place in a world that barely notices. For the few who still dream of fame, the path is steep, a long road littered with forgotten names.

And so, the modern-day gladiator walks, not on the sands of a Colosseum, but through the bustling chaos of cities, through the broken systems, through the weight of history. They win small victories, they survive but what does it all mean?

What happened to the glory? Was it ever real? 

What is the point of fighting if survival itself is the only reward? 

Does the crowd even care anymore? 

Or are we all just gladiators in a world where the Colosseum has vanished, leaving behind nothing but questions…