January appreciates architecture

Below us was Blacks Beach.  Next to us were edges of cliffs.  We could see the ocean only because the Wallace Cunningham designed museum had enough glass to peer through to its ‘backyard.’  Croix lived in a fucking museum.
We were spending New Year’s with St. Croix in La Jolla where she would meet Cress for the first time.  For the last three years she lived in Europe, wrote, traveled and dated counts.  Croix and her latest count purchased the Razor Residence: a steel, concrete and glass structure occupying eleven thousand square feet of jeweled cliffs.
“Ok, what the hell has happened to you in the last few years?”
“I don’t hate sex!  Or the boy!”
“I see that.”  Croix glanced at him and the Count smoking cigars on chaises by the infinity pool.  The extraterrestrialized silver and olive blue water didn’t look like a pool at all.
“Your pool looks like Pac-Man.”

Razor House in La Jolla, California:

Architect: Wallace e. Cunningham