I know, I know, love goes like a swing, like a pendulum, like night and day, like law of gravity, like action and reaction. And that's what makes it beautiful. Especially when you're approaching thirty-nine. Yikes! Lovers and friends get fewer and more distant so you cherish them like jewels.

At the front  of Breakers Hotel I sit, Matt says, "Stay there. Just look at the camera." He clicks it.

"I might put that on my gay website," I tell him.

"Yeah, I think it's great. But it ain't cute."

"Well, I'm getting old,  man.  Being cute ain't my characteristic anymore. If ever I was."
 

We laughed a guarded laugh.

"Are we pretending tourists now?" he asks.

"Yeah, tourists....I've been in South Florida for nearly seven years and I still haven't seen  much of it."

He sighs, "Alex, it's really your fault. You need to use your vacation days. How many vacation days d'you have?"

"Six weeks", I say.

"Darn, sometimes it ain't worth to be workaholic. Get away from your sick patients. Lets pretend tourists."

" I am a tourist!" I say.

There is a certain calmness in Palm Beach, a calmness borne out of wealth and sense of good life. The houses that stand on this strip of island are surrounded by the calm intercoastal  towards the mainland and the restless surf towards the ocean. Along the A1A road, the sidewalks are impeccably clean, the gardens are well trimmed and kept. Afterall, the wealthiest of the US usually have houses here.

This house below, for example, imitates the ambiance of the Mediterranean, the back is facing the ocean.
 

This below looks more like a church to me.

Below is the interior of the Breakers Hotel. A French motif. Matt loves this. I can stay here forever.
 
 

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