daynote

In a hotel lounge, everyone’s an international spy, even if they just ordered tea.

Beauty is not to be seen but to be felt—add nothing, take nothing away.

Everyone is heading somewhere, but not everyone arrives.

Red is not just a color; it’s an attitude.

Swim like a fish, breathe like a mammal, dream like a bird.

Lounging is preparation for randomness.

The skill to turn sour into sweet is the key to freedom.

You are alone, but so is everyone else.

In the hotel lounge, we are both present and absent, floating between destinations.

A hotel lounge is a place to wait, but for what? The answer is often nothing.