A warren of bare necessity, the inops domum is the poorest area inside the Wall of Aurelian, where cramped, rudimentary dwellings cling to life beneath a haze of smoke and dust. Simple huts and makeshift shanties huddle together like beggars against the chill, their roofs patched with thatch and tattered cloths. The paths here are nothing more than dirt, trodden into shape by the countless peasants that call this their home. Thin children dart through the streets, their eyes hollow and fingers quick. Others sit hunched beside tiny braziers, making do on boiled grain or stale bread. With no one caring enough to tend them, olive trees run wild, sometimes growing through the structures people call homes. No one comes here bar those who have no hope elsewhere, and the feeling of despair hovers in the air.