"Just arrived in town. In my cab from the airport, to the hotel, it was hot, a dry oven-like kind of heat. I stood there, on the curb, in front of a beautiful old facade. My throat was dry as a desert and my skin wet from the sweat this hot town had squeezed out of me. Suddenly my body started moving, moving forward and my feet slowly took off from the pavement. I calmly flew towards the old entrance of the building, just an inch above the scorching concrete. When I reached the door, two elegant ghost-like men, looking strangely like twins, wearing tuxedos and holding umbrellas, stood in the entrance. One of these lovely strange doorkeepers was holding the leash of an Afghan dog; thin, silent and shiny black. When I went through the door, the strangest thing happened. What before had been hot and dry, now became wet and soothing. The plastered facade was just a mask - a gateway - to this monsoon wonderland in which I now found myself. The soft rain was an invitation as my body and brain were overheating in and out. Continuing into what looked to be a lobby, the time slowed down. It was cool and dark, and I needed a moment before I could really see. On the left, a dark marble module, looking like an altar, was making bubbles, and an enormous bubble was petrified in the air. The space that opened itself in front of me did not seem ordinary. It was earthy, somehow grounded, with a mineral sparkle. The walls were standing there, rough, solid as mountains, disappearing in a thick heavy fog; the sweet steam from the bodies of lovers, blown there by the wing stroke of an eagle. I felt the urge to lift my head and look. The sight was unbelievable - animals hovered everywhere. I stepped forward. A gentleman, with silver hair, stylish in a china collar blazer and with wrinkles like wells of wisdom, welcomed me with a confident nod. He was standing behind a huge desk, floating freely in the room. His noble appearance was stunning. “Welcome to your moment”, it echoed. Who spoke?! There was absolutely no movement on the man’s lips. “It is me - do not worry, everything is all right”. He re-insured me with a smile. I could hear his voice in my head, as whispering and warm as the music of forgotten tribes and I felt that he could read my thoughts. There was a great flash. He was now holding a photography of me in his hands and stuck it onto a wall covered with pictures. Behind him was, what first occurred to be a window or a mirror, a reflective surface of mystery. The reflection had its own life; I saw myself going to the altar and talking to the barman, who looked like a bartender who could have worked in The Chrystler Building in the 30’s. I seemed happy so I did not bother to pay more attention to this strange reflection. “You look tired, I have prepared you a very special room. A white warm water bath is waiting for you as we speak”, the smooth voice of the concierge resounded in my head. He directed me towards a huge, voluminous double-spiral staircase. As I curiously walked up the stairs, it got brighter step by step. I ascended further, with misty voices flying through the air telling stories of fresh spring and green grass. My direction changed and I found myself passing through a long warm leathery hallway, until I was finally led to my room. The room was large, with walls magically fading from dark at the floor to pure white in the celling. A warm breeze, charged with fresh water drops, was coming in through a large open window. Right there, in that moment, I had a déjà vu of when I first entered the building. Time slowed down.
The curtain stopped its movement with a crisp discrete elegance. The book above the night table, floating as if by magic and the white cat mawkishly purring on the bed, stopped. White water dripping into the white bathtub placed right in front of the bed, as promised by the Host, stopped. Everything stopped. A large, soft, note with all white pages ready to be filled, stopped. Available to be wrapped into it’s movement, loved.”