The American surfers have very lovely friends.
Business boys, lawyers and executives, gym-toned and well-to-do. Their girlfriends are local, Huahine beauties, tawny and lithe with light-up-the-dark smiles, and they make it clear in sizing me up that once the lawyers fly home they’ll be happy to be my local friends instead, for a consideration.
At night geckos mate on my wall.
It all feels very lonely.