This wall has long since fallen. It was part of the Sanctuary of Apollo, the center of the universe to the ancient Greeks, more than 2,500 years ago. It stood along side of the Sacred Way – the marble road leading to the dwelling place of the god Apollo – a street once lined with 3,000 statues and huge treasuries holding the offerings of the people who came to consult the god through his priestess, the Oracle of Delphi. The statues and most of the treasuries are gone now – all that’s left are ruins. Yet these ruined walls still speak to us, and we can listen to them. I singled out a single stone to express this idea. The afternoon sun was low in sky, illuminating the ancient Greek lettering on one side, and shadowing the mysterious, crudely scratched words on another, words that have stood the test of wind, rain and sun for twenty five centuries. I don’t know what the writing says – or if it was even part of a wall. It may have just as well been a column. Yet someone is still trying to say something to us after all of this time, and on this fall evening centuries later, their words can still be seen, revealed in light and hidden in shadow. I tilted the camera to allow the primary inscription to move along a diagonal plane, ending abruptly in the shadows where the other words seem to have left by succeeding generations. And that is the dynamic at work here – a war of words.