November 3: That hotel

A little island out of time, out of place, out of the regularity of life.

Sitting at the hotel bar drinking something with whiskey and kirsch, shockingly good, making me giggly. The couple next to us buy us a drink, the first time a stranger ever did that for me: bartender, a round of whatever they are drinking, on my tab.

Walking to the elevator after last call with one last glass in hand.

Waking in the morning with everything right in the world under a white duvet.