In the chilly clubhouse lobby, standing in a fountain, a pale goddess blesses the vigilance of plastic ducks. On a table in another corner, a tall pile of Jewish newspapers share space with the Miami Herald's headline: "Milosevic Delivered To UN Tribunal, Faces Trial Over Atrocities In Kosovo."

I walk to the canal, as I've done many times before on my last day here. Nearby, a lawn mower drowns out a jet plane trailing vapor as it blazes toward the stratosphere. I sit on the grass, facing tepid, algae-clogged, fish-free water.

With back to the sun, my shadow mumbles to itself: "Did Homer, dark sage, see what I'm trying to find?


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