ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ
πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσεν
Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story
of that man skilled in all ways of contending,
the wanderer, harried for years on end,
after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.
— tr. Robert Fitzgerald (1961)
Your journey is now sadly fraught:
this purgatory leads to naught
Wait for Godot or someone else?
Reverse, retry, and flee such hells.
Return to Ithaca anon
or find your dreams and hopes are gone.
404: O to return to the fore!