Everything was gold: the golden Baroque cities glistening under the glowing sun of August, and far away, the gently rising mountains of Theocritus dir...cting our gaze to Homer's wine-dark sea. Now when I look back at myself at the age of fifteen, I recall only two pieces of literature that lent my monotonous school life a subtle romantic air: A la recherche du temps perdu by Marcel Proust and the Eclogues by Virgil. For a short time I was so fascinated by Eclogue II in which the handsome. I was absolutely positively positive we had never met and she looked at least ten years older than me. Who was she?She didn't answer but asked me a question in return."What year is this for you, Harry?"I frowned at her above the din. What? Year? What year was this? What a stupid question. I shook my head at her and she just nodded as if she understood.To my utter surprise, she blew me a kiss and waved. Then with a glance at her would be captors, she reached behind her right ear and promptly. More

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