Delphi stared up in awe at the sheer height of the columns in front of her. The place was huge.
“When’s it going to be finished?” she asked.
The man who was organising slaves to shift the huge blocks of stone gave her a look – it was a common one. It meant: “don’t ask.” She got the hint – and suspected that he was thinking the same thing.
Wasn’t it typical? Of course, Zeus had to have the biggest temple. It made sense really, he was the chief of the gods, first of the Olympians. But obviously the priests and councillors had got a bit overexcited and decided to build a temple so big that it was impossible to finish. They had been building it for 300 years already.
Delphi decided that she preferred the smaller ones. There was one to Apollo next door, which was more modest and finished. That was more her.
What was the point of reaching for the skies if you were never going to get there?