inspiration for me. Down every corridor, in every room and bar, standing at the window watching the world stretch out before you, the sun
rise and fall - all of life is here. They're sexy and mysterious, glamorous and lonely, escapist and imprisoning. The silence of the corridors,
the paranoid glances when another guest passes by, the threat of temptation. It smothers me, sucks me in.
Last night I saw a beautiful woman several floors up posing at her Hotel window, her curves silhouetted against the light of her room. She
was with someone I couldn't see, dancing for them, flirting, stripping free of her black dress. A private moment gone public. She wanted to
be watched, her window directly above the party goers still drinking by the pool below. The reveal that gives way to a twist. The person
she was dancing for was another woman. They kissed, then drew the curtains. The stuff of fantasy and heartbreak.
How many stories does each hotel room have to tell? How many strangers have passed through, lived for a little, indulged their fantasies
before returning to the rhythms of normal life? A home away from home? No. Hotels are so much more than this.