The intact temple seems to say: "I am. I was young. I will be indistinguishable from the stone I came from." I wonder if they spoke the same in their heyday but that the words were lost in the clamor. Especially when you can see through to the other side -- the sky, a village off in the distance, a peak looming; their assertion of duration is pilferated by acknowledgment and acceptance. Hera and Athena and Apollo have become a Zen garden and cultures pranam.
The theater. At first it was the silence between Greek sounds. O. Koinon. Autadelphon. Then the silence in the orchestra when the play is done and the actors and the audience have gone home. Now it's the silence between millennia: longer, larger, louder. But it's the same silence.