The steps of the Lincoln Memorial were packed with people, the marble columns so tall you had to crane your neck to see them. The statues were larger than I'd imagined, hands resting on the railings, eyes gazing into the distance. The inscriptions on the walls were so deep they seemed embedded. An old man stood there silently for a long time before moving on. Looking back from the bottom of the steps, the crowd looked like ants, swaying back and forth across the square. The pool reflected the distant obelisk, which seemed fragile enough to shatter in the wind. The sun made the ground scorching, but sitting there for a while brought a sense of coolness.