The lecture hall buzzed with quiet anticipation as Selene adjusted the projector. A warm beam of light illuminated the screen behind her, displaying a depiction of a young Greek athlete draped in a himation, the traditional cloak worn in ancient Greece. The students sat forward, their notebooks ready, their curiosity piqued.
"As you can see," Selene began, gesturing toward the image, "the youth depicted here wears a himation, a garment both functional and symbolic. In ancient Greece, clothing was more than just protection from the elements—it was a statement of identity, status, and even virtue."
She walked to the edge of the stage, her voice carrying an ease that came from years of practice. "The Greeks believed that how you dressed reflected your character. For young men like this, the himation represented a rite of passage, a shift from adolescence to adulthood. But," she paused, casting a glance at her class, "what else does this image tell us?"
A hand shot up in the front row. "The posture, maybe? It seems relaxed, but confident."
"Exactly!" Selene nodded. "This stance wasn't just artistic choice. It was intentional—projecting the ideal of arete, or excellence, that the Greeks valued so highly. What about the setting? Look closer."
A student near the back squinted at the slide. "It looks like he's in a gymnasium?"
"Good observation," Selene affirmed. "The gymnasium was central to Greek life—a place not just for physical training, but for socializing and intellectual debate. Every detail here gives us insight into what they valued. Clothing, posture, setting—they're like a language, telling us who this young man was."
The class buzzed with murmurs of understanding as Selene moved to the next slide, showing a modern artist's reinterpretation of the same figure. "Now, compare this with how we reinterpret history today. What do we preserve, and what do we change?"
The students leaned in, hands raising one after another. The conversation turned lively, filled with debates on historical context, cultural appropriation, and artistic liberties. Selene guided the discussion with a deft hand, pushing them to think deeper without giving them all the answers.
By the time the lecture ended, Selene felt the familiar hum of satisfaction. Teaching was one of the few constants in her life, a thread that kept her grounded. As the students packed up, a young woman approached her desk, clutching a printed article.
"Dr. Laurent?"
Selene looked up to find Mia, one of her brightest students, standing nervously by her desk. "Yes, Mia?"
"I wanted to show you something," Mia said, handing over the article. "I came across this online last night. It's about an excavation site—a temple, actually. It's strange because there's barely any information about it, and no one seems to be studying it. I thought it might interest you."
Selene scanned the title. It was a brief, poorly formatted article, but the accompanying image caught her attention: a faded, weathered structure half-hidden by overgrowth, its carvings hinting at a forgotten era.
"Where did you find this?" Selene asked, intrigued.
"A niche archaeology forum," Mia explained. "The post didn't get much traction, but something about it seemed… off. I figured if anyone could dig deeper, it'd be you."
Selene smiled, impressed by Mia's enthusiasm. "Thank you, Mia. I'll take a look."
Mia beamed. "I'd love to hear your thoughts if you find anything. It just feels like there's more to it than what's in that article."
As Mia left, Selene studied the photograph again. The temple seemed unremarkable at first glance, yet something about it tugged at her. A peculiar sense of familiarity, as though she had seen it before—though she knew she hadn't.
Shaking off the feeling, Selene slipped the article into her bag. She had papers to grade, research to complete. But later, when the day quieted and the world slowed, she would return to it.
Back in her office, Selene slipped into her usual routine. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of her computer and the occasional rustle of papers as she worked through the term essays her students had submitted.
She picked up a neatly bound paper, her red pen at the ready, and began reading. The essay was good—thoughtful, well-researched, though lacking depth in a few areas. She scribbled notes in the margins as she worked, the familiar rhythm of grading lulling her into focus.
When she finished a few more essays, she turned to her inbox. Dozens of emails awaited her attention, most of them routine—scheduling meetings, confirming research proposals, inquiries from students. One, however, caught her eye. It was from a colleague working on an excavation in Cyprus, asking for her input on some artifacts they'd recently uncovered.
Selene leaned forward, studying the attached photographs. The artifacts were fascinating—a mix of pottery and decorative fragments with patterns that reminded her of something she'd seen before. She made a mental note to respond later.
As the hours passed, Selene worked steadily, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the photograph of the temple. Unable to resist any longer, she pulled the article Mia had given her from the corner of her desk and studied it again.
She traced her finger over the image, noting the intricacy of the carvings, the structure's imposing yet forgotten beauty. Something about it called to her—a mystery waiting to be unraveled.
Curious, she turned to her computer and began a search. At first, her queries yielded little—recycled information and vague mentions that only deepened the enigma. But she pressed on, combing through obscure sites and online forums for anything that might shed light on the temple's history.
Her concentration was broken by the sudden chirp of her phone. The screen lit up with Ivy's name.
"Hello?" Selene answered, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she continued skimming a website.
"Selene," Ivy's voice was light but insistent, "we're at the café on the corner. You're coming, right?"
Selene hesitated, her gaze flicking back to the computer screen. "I don't know, Ivy. I'm in the middle of something—"
"Nope, no excuses," Ivy cut in. "You've been cooped up in that office all day. You need a break. Mira's already ordered for you."
Selene smiled despite herself. "You're relentless, you know that?"
"It's part of my charm. Now, come on. We're waiting."
Selene glanced at the photo of the temple once more before shutting her laptop. The mystery would have to wait. "Alright, I'm on my way."
The café was lively when she arrived, the sound of chatter and the aroma of fresh coffee filling the air. Ivy and Mira were seated by the window, waving her over enthusiastically.
"There she is!" Mira called out as Selene approached. "We thought you'd gotten lost in your office again."
"Close," Selene replied with a small laugh, taking the seat they'd saved for her. "I was grading papers."
"Ugh, boring," Ivy teased, sliding a steaming cup of coffee toward her. "You need more excitement in your life."
"And what would that look like?" Selene asked, her tone playful.
"Well, for starters," Ivy began, leaning in conspiratorially, "maybe going on an actual date. You know, like normal people?" And they all laughed.