Every thing to do with the Colosseum is monstrous. It's physical dimensions are huge, the millions of visitors it has annually, the quantity of building materials used, the bloodshed, man and animal that occurred in the arena, and I could go on.
When I was a kid, my parents became friends with a Jimmy Wild. I don't remember what he did but he was something like a stock agent or travelling salesperson for agricultural products. We would stay overnight with us. Us kids simply called him Wild, it was like his Christian name. Sometimes he would bring bags of Allens Sweets for us to share. On one occasion he gave me three small rocks, they would have been about 2 cm cubed. I still have them somewhere. Yeah, I know, I'm a hoarder and that has not been a problem until I moved to Tasmania. I simply have ALOT of stuff!! Wild told me that these rocks were from the Colosseum in Rome. And until today I though the whole Colosseum was constructed of stones no larger than my three little rocks.
Childhood memories and imaginations can become urban myths?