Palm Beach Reach

It's been only two weeks yet every part of my being has transferred to a new place, a new landscape. I'm back here in Palm Beach, no grotty people about, no rough hands and dirty boots, no inter-table conversation, but clean people half finishing their over priced eggs and keeping to themselves. I think about the factors that make this place apart of me, yet also somewhere I don't identify with. Is it the competitive nature of this trendy culture? And the way it can be so transient and fickle? Is it the laconic faces of locals who are so comfortable they have never felt a struggle beyond the one of being under stimulated and bored? The gracelessness of boredom, destructive and ugly, even on the faces of these people blessed with perfect genes and looks. It is the disconnect between peoples culture and where they live, and money being the horse of that cart. And I wonder about my rejection of and by this place, as much as a small town is something I am pleased and contented with, the difference here must be that it is so close to Sydney and the constant leaving. The availability to disappear, whereas out there in the bush it ain't so easy to hide. Here it seems people are hiding, then reinventing themselves all the time. Money spent selfishly.  I do love it here. I do love Pittwater and the island, I love the horizon of the beach and night swims. I love boating, swimming, sunning, walking and looking after myself. A place of respite, but not always. That's just too much self-time, no wonder everyone looks a little exhausted. I have realized that here cannot sustain me. And I can still love it and be reconciled with it as a part of me. But it is not me, and has tried to show me many times, pushing me out from the beginning it seems sometimes.