Something About Nothing or Something’s going on in Paradise

It’s the weekend, and I find myself on a large boat, cruising round Mykonos, island of beauty and desolation, everything and nothing.

An empty beach is some kind of paradise, sparkling sea, scorching sun and very little else. It’s fiercely beautiful. Intense. The only human marks are stone walls on the hills and plastic on the shoreline. It’s a place to be. A place to see and swim and think of absolutely nothing.
Paradise Beach, the next port of call, is the opposite. Swarming with squirting, spurting humans, spraying bottles of Moet Et Chandon like it’s a Formula One, like it’s a porno, like it’s the last days of decadence, like it means something to spend so much money on absolutely nothing.