Travel. Mountains rise up into a blue sky from the trail near an InterContinental Hotels Group property. Three or four stars only are visible, an island sunset a moment ago completing, yet again, no longer visible and below the horizon, heading west towards the Greenwich Mean Time longitude.
Night's arriving.
The hotel is what every establishment should be, immaculate and noticably pleasing. I'm not even near the place and I can feel the polished woodtones and beiges placing my pulse's rhythm back into a peaceful equilibrium.
"Hello." Said an island accent. "Time to pack it in and go."
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello, please feel free to start or join an online conversation here in the comments area.