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In less than 12 hours my flight leaves for Atlanta, Georgia. Then Boston... In 6 hours I need to be showered, and perhaps see one last film at the quaint cultural center where I wandered, yesterday, just off the beachfront in Ipanema. But between now and then, there is a universe of contemplation to be had. I will meander the mosaic sidewalk, massage my feet in the pristine (and imported, I might add) sand. I may even spend my last Reais... or not. I will stare into the endless and ever changing abyss that is the ocean.

When I was a child, before I had the certainty of my eternal uncertainty, when God was a concept that still felt untainted, and distant from its present cliché, I decided that if I were to choose a temple for my religion, whatever form it might take, it would be there, alone, facing the vast throbbing ocean, feeling its cool pulse seep into my bones. The palpitations of my (even then) searching heart aligning themselves with the rush of the water, the pull of the tide, the thrust of the waves crashing in circular imperfection. My God, if I were to find it, would be an imperfect one. Not much has changed.

The southern stars were beautiful, as I remembered, but sadly, I was unable to lie, back to the cold pavement, with only the sound and fury of the ocean´s symphony in my ears. Not this time. This time I played it safe. I kept to myself, but strayed not from the lighted paths. I drank in silence with my book for company, an unfaltering companion. I watched girls and boys train their bodies in the darkness... and I walked home, to a bed that was clean, but not mine.

Today I will walk out into the crashing surf, for a few brief moments, pay homage to my chosen temple, give thanks for the bounty to which I am privvy. I will not say goodbye, but até mais...