You see one thing when you look at the state from a distance, but if you come closer, dig deeper, you always find something else. This probably has something to do with Disney World, but it also relates to the entire construct of Florida—the mythology of the state as a paradise preserved in time just for you.
It’s sunny in California. A thousand poets spin around each other, singing their verses into each others’ ears while spectators, smiling, sip their cocktails. Back in the South, a painter touches up a historic, complex mural—long weathered by thundering spring storms. At the newsstand nearby, the owner opens up the latest issue of his favorite weekly, the Arkansas Times.