As she waits at the station… a train of thoughts pass by… mourning over grief left behind…carrying along the the undeniable luggage… gathering courage for what’s yet to come…
When I entered the bathroom, the most amazing scents embraced me
With our own waterfall from the roof the temperature inside is perfectly balanced
Mellow yellow lemony breezes, fresh croissant sniffs and sneezes …
There at the green shores the ancient castle still towers the cliffs…
Somewhere around nothing…
Who is the real puppeteer, who is pulling the strings?
There at the Highcastlecliffs the prince of the woods stood watch and witnessed the awakening of Spring…
And here we have our dreamy-pastels living room at the Summer Olive inn …
Surrounded by Ancient trees some say they are descendants from those who carried the lights…
A kitchen filled with springtime whispers…
Waves of mystical times rustle through the springtime leaves…
