Celebration again. The town is a completely artificial environment. An odd place to live in many ways. This is a picture of some roofs in the main street area, looking quite exotic but also very substantial.

A beautiful study in planes and lines on a grey Florida day. I am reminded of Kiplings "old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea." But his old soldier didn't find a happy end. Better think of something else, though still Kipling calls to us (or me anyway)

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but what do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and ---
Law! Wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin' fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China
'crost the Bay!