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We have few words between us, but in the gift shop Alexi calls me. He points to a t-shirt on the wall alongside Pokemon, and smiles: "Mickey Pontiki".
    It is late at night, and while everyone else is engaged in conversation in Greek—saying their last goodbyes—Alexi and I watch Quentin Tarantino’s True Romance with Patricia Arquette and Christian Slater. I wonder if the motherfuckers and cocksuckers have been tamed in the Greek subtitles. I’m slightly shocked that his parents are allowing him to watch this movie, but I wonder also if the American violence is no more than mythology to him. No more real than Mickey Mouse or Pokemon.
    Later, as Sophia and I sit on the veranda of her father’s house drinking our last Bicardi Breezer, I hear wafting out towards me across the bay from Lazareto, now illuminated by spotlights:

Those who have died have never never left
The dead have a pact with the living
They are with us in the home, they are with us in the crowd
Tis the ancestors’ breath in the voice of the waters2

1 The Southern-most tip of Africa
2 Sweet Honey in the Rock, Breaths

Bottle, Starfinder,
Greek Harbor, Sophia Condaris

Greek Column, M. Feinstein

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