No owls, no olive trees. I walked through the ruins of the ancient town of Priene, now a wilderness, ancient groves run wild, to the top of the hill, where the remnants of the temple to Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, stood in a clearing. Broken pieces of columns are scattered about, like a jigsaw puzzle made of stone cog-wheels. Between them grow spring flowers. I saw a solitary poppy, the memorial flower of a hundred year old war, finding space to grow up to fatuous sunbeams. The ruins are about one and a half thousand years old. I stood there and wondered what it would look like in another one and a half thousand years. Would the wilderness have reclaimed it by then?