Today is Sunday. It was so late when I went to bed last night that it was actually five o'clock this morning, and as the sun was already rising. I had to lower the blinds in my bedroom-which I hate-so I could get a little sleep.

I slept until I got stung by a mosquito (or should I say bitten?), though probably I was getting hungry too. It was midday, so there was still plenty of time for me to carry out my Sunday routine. That basically consists in trying to get away from my computer for a few hours, and living in the real world which, they tell me, is still there regardless of what takes place in this other universe that is the Internet.

I also want to spend some time following the advice of my friend and trying to find this exceptional boy who is apparently waiting for me somewhere.

My house is a stone's throw from the part of the coast known as Cabo de las Huertas [The Cape of Gardens], which has a large number of nude beaches and would, I thought, be the ideal spot to begin today's search.

So, after a late breakfast, I put on my Rodier swimsuit, my Decathlon T-shirt, and my genuine Valencian espadrilles (note the impeccable taste with which I undress for the beach), and set out to follow the trail from end to end.

I'm still suffering from a touch of tendinitis which makes it difficult to walk along uneven surfaces, although this gives me the opportunity to commit to memory the sunbathers playing at Adam and Eve.

As on previous visits, I note with displeasure that nearly all the people here are what I call "lizards," their skin wizened through age until it looks like a reptile's. Like real lizards, they lie the sun with their bodies stretched out on a rock and their mouths open. But, as hope is the last thing to die, I continue my search. Some day I will find this kind and beautiful youth, and he will flash me a look to invite me to sit at his side.

The path is about 1¼ miles long. A little way along, I round a bend and find a delightful ephebe of about sixteen, in black shorts like cyclists wear that cling to his body.

He has the face of an angel a body that's muscled but not bulky, and very well proportioned. There is a small crucifix earring in his right ear. He's lying on his back as he sunbathes on a rock.

This could be my lucky day except that there are three lizards just a couple of feet away from him. They are brazenly watching him, and have him surrounded on every side.

Disappointed, I continue on my way. Inside a quarter of an hour I come upon a lad of about twenty. He is completely nude on his towel, and facing me. I try to watch without making it too obvious. He is a little taller than the other boy, but just as fine.

He seems to be totally absorbed in watching the sea, and I don't think he even notices me walk in front of him.

It hardly matters though, because he is surrounded not by a ring of admirers but a whole crowd of them. There must be two lizards per square yard, and it's scarcely possible to follow the path.

Worn out by the exercise and demoralised by my disappointments, I start back home when I see a group of adults and children having a picnic a hundred yards off. It's a family of gypsies and I can make out a boy of about 15, of solemn beauty, his face like that of a flamenco singer, with long, jet-black hair and the body of a toreador.

He is one of nature's little gems. He has an inborn grace, and even in the most commonplace postures his body has the poise of a statue by Donatello or Michaelangelo.

I don't dare watch him too much with his family around him, but when I've passed him I take one more look. Now the sun is behind him, and his silhouette gradually loses itself in the light reflected from the sea, as if he'd been only a dream.

Once again I return home with my heart a little sad: I'd certainly found beauty, but had slipped through my fingers like water or sand.

But next time I WILL succeed!