I love hotels. Of every size and star. For, in them, the act of transit stops. You leave the world. Your life becomes a key card and four walls. You are neither staying, nor going (although, obviously, both). Time is put on temporary hold and, despite its inexorable heavy-booted march, will treat you fairly—with fresh bleached towels and water glasses with wee paper lids. The curtains close, the door frame double locks, and no one ever leaves.
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Hotels are hard for me, I am someone who wants to settle immediately into feeling at home and hotels are just reminders that I will come and go, just as everyone else has. I read about musicians or actors living for months out of a hotel and I think, Man, that would just drive me insane.
I hope you are having fun in your hotel room, however! :)
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