When I raised my arms with excitement, I said, "The audacious roaring wave ruthlessly struck the cliff," as the glitter had seized my gaze. Our eyes met. He cast his eyes down with a mocking twist of his lips. He had sensed how I provoked him. He took a few steps and approached me. I wished for him to witness this magnificent spectacle with his own eyes, a sight I couldn't resist. Sparkling waves crashed against the rocks, foaming and scattering like pearls. I was a witness to a mystical ritual. It was harvest time, the noon of the late days of summer.
Raising his right index finger, he pointed towards the shore and said, "Such play of light: if it isn't the divine play of gods to us mortals, then what is it?" He wouldn't give up on his stance. He couldn't hear me, he couldn't understand. He had placed his hand on my shoulder and pulled me towards him. We assigned different meanings to what we witnessed. I wasn't afraid, I wasn't hesitating. I pointed tirelessly at the sparkling waves. We beheld the magnificent spectacle together. Radiant lights danced upon the waves. When I rested my cheek against his, he flinched. His sweaty cheek was flushed. He took shuddering breaths, a mix of astonishment and concern. The greatest gifts life had given me were the keenness of my eyes and ears. My questioning of the gods secretly angered him.
I could ask my poignant question without hesitation. Disregarding his condition, I said, "I truly wish for extraordinary and peculiar things to happen there. Tell me, my friend, what keeps the tongues of the statues we erect in every corner of the city?" He pushed me with irritation, his face reddened. I adjusted my toga(1). He didn't say a word. He shook his head in frustration. However, whenever the conversation circled back to the gods, he used to roar. Drawing strength from his silence, I smiled and asked, "Could this be one of the gods' sly pranks?"
"These waves are no ordinary waves. They are the reflections of Apollo's(2) arrows. Who knows, divine glimmers might have seized our sight. You're grumbling about missing the chance to witness the gods. Are you blind?" he said.
"Don't get worked up, my brother. I won't invite misfortune on such an important day," I said. He deserved consolation; I embraced him tightly. Loudly, I called, "We're parched, bring some water." A servant bowed and handed me a tray. After taking a sip or two, I said, "In this heat, like those incompetent beings we've been waiting for, I waited for the gods to come back to their senses. I won't trouble anyone further. Today is a great day; I'll behave myself." I placed the cup on the tray. The slave's hands trembled. Speaking ill of the gods wasn't well-received. When I gestured for him to withdraw, he vanished. Doubting the majority's faith was seen as madness.
Growing tired of pacing the corridor, he squeezed his way beside me again. I knew he was furious. He pointed to the spot we had been observing, "The surroundings of the harbor are enclosed, gilded. Those radiant waves are relentlessly beating against the harbor cliffs," he said. I sensed he was giving a speech and trying to exert pressure through his tone. We had begun the shooting game we had played since childhood.
With arrogance, I puffed out my chest slightly, spread my arms, and said, "No matter how furious the crashing wave on the shore is, its fervor fades before long. When viewed from unknown seas, they've come to besiege. After enduring various tribulations, when they reach the shores of Ephesus, they throw themselves into the earth, embracing it under the sun. The land that defends its homeland, with the wisdom of serenity, absorbs and destroys the enemy. The waves vanished helplessly. The fall of the gods!" He listened to me in terror. Our childish banter had long turned into fear of damnation. We were in the age when the gods had abandoned Rome.
The mockery returned to his face, "Surely, even the earth is not immortal," he said. He engaged in the mental game as well. Playing with words is the greatest rebellion against the tedium of the world. I admired his sharp wit. If there was a virtue, it was hidden in understanding this cycle. We weren't wasting our time; understanding was more valuable than anything. I knew he had understood that I wanted to talk about a magnificent motion that we could observe, a motion where the gods, whatever wisdom they held, were absent. I was talking about a cycle like the seasons. After days of sighing over mysterious occurrences in nature, he struck a chord. I couldn't restrain myself. I had plunged into a crisis of faith that shook my entire life.
Closing words are always grand. I stood in front of him, raised my right hand, and said, "What land is too heavy to be moved? What rock won't crumble and break? There is no victor in this divine spectacle. This is an endless motion, a relentless battle. When these lands, against the earth, water, and sun, resist and ascend these high stones of Rome, you can witness it," I said.
He embraced me in a reassuring manner. This time, he didn't twist his lips. He lifted his head and said, "Among humans, seeing this is impossible. We're at a height. Our understanding comes from our proximity to Olympus. You are mortal, even though you don't understand, we've been blessed in the presence of gods," he said. I grew tired of teasing; to show my respect, I took a half step back and bowed while standing straight. We embraced with a smile. We had finished our game in perfect harmony, without stumbling. Although I appeared to agree by taking a step back, I had achieved my goal. Being virtuous was more important than putting on a mask and playing a role, even if it meant being alone.
From the topmost tier of the Great Theater, we were observing our Ephesus from above, beyond the highest seats. "If you were to walk from one end of the Parthian Monument to the other, it might be a hundred steps. When you look from this high up, the colossal sculptures seem to be in the midst of a lively battle. They blend into Rome's blessed victory, the soldiers come to life, and even Emperor Lucius Verus (3) seems to become divine. In his chariot, the Emperor has defeated his enemies, and now the rock will crack, and his spirit will ascend to godhood," he said. I began to watch the city with a smile. I hoped the delegation waiting for us wouldn't be much longer. He was walking back and forth in frustration. Preparations for the festival were in full swing at the Great Theater.
I surveyed the streets and buildings. The Harbor Baths were impressive. Following the Harbor Street, I stopped at the Harbor Gate and exchanged greetings. He greeted those who arrived at the city, standing robustly. The unique street extending from the Harbor Baths to the harbor itself was incredibly crowded. The mortal crowd was discordant. We didn't seem as harmonious as the waves. It seemed that the power of divine arrows could only reach as far as glimmers; in the presence of humans, all I saw was blandness. Wherever humans trod, they diminished the starlight. My gaze involuntarily drifted towards the sea. If there was meaning, it surely lay in nature. I examined the harbor cliffs. The mystical play was ongoing. I was captivated by beauty, gazing at the waves of anger, an unstoppable force.
The last arriving conqueror was quite magnificent. I tried to force myself to see the world through my friend's eyes. I had no other way to fill the void within me. In each drop, the thousands of ships besieging the Trojan (4) shore seemed to have set sail again for war. When Achilles (5) drew his sword and pointed towards the shore from the lead ship, the soldiers must have reflected their shields towards my face. Only in this way could I explain the blinding light. I quietly watched the clash of the waves one after another. Neither did those waves tire of crashing onto the shore nor did the Ephesian earth tire of absorbing and destroying them.
I grew weary of waiting in the topmost tier of the Great Theater. My friend Decimus was on the brink of losing his temper under the low roof. I took a final breath of the breeze scented with a touch of spices and seaweed before turning away. I placed my hand on the iron railing. Lost in thought, I took a few steps without lifting my head. My crystal-cut glass doorknob brushed against my fingers. I stopped. I gripped the knob tightly. Strangely enough, as soon as my hand left the glass knob, all the colors of the rainbow descended onto the corridor. The vine that had grown from the corridor and wall and now enveloped the roof was now resplendent in various colors. My nerves were frayed. Chuckling at its unexpected play, I said, "Now we're inundated with colors."
"Troy, Troia: An ancient Anatolian city.
Achilles: A demigod with a divine mother and a mortal king for a father.
(1) Toga: It is the general name for the most characteristic garment of in Roman culture. The toga is achieved by wrapping a strip of cloth, approximately six meters long, around the body in a specific manner and is typically worn over a tunic. It is the most distinctive attire of ancient Rome.
(2) Apollo: Greek God. One of the twelve Olympian deities.
(3) Monument erected in memory of Emperor Lucius Verus' Parthian victory. The surviving friezes are housed in the Vienna National Museum.
[4] Troy, Troia: Ancient Anatolian city.
[5] Achilles: A demigod with a divine mother and a mortal king for a father."