The slopes of the Esquiline Hill are a blend of untamed natural beauty and the determined imprint of Roma's industrial spirit. Here, the common people of the city reside in packed insulae decorated with all the signs of provincial life: tunics billowing in the wind as they hang from lines, hastily placed terracotta pots hosting growing vines, and gnarled tree branches worming their way into the cracks in the stone. It is a busy place, where there is little time to stop and chat when there is work to be done. The marketplace especially is a hive of activity seemingly at all hours, where merchants shout to promote their wares to the passing crowd. Although not wealthy, the hill's residents are defined by a sense of purpose, and as much is clear in the weathered yet well-maintained nature of their homes.