Recent events have really been exhausting; I ran from one city to another in shorts laps of time exposing canvas, presiding over socio-cultural events with the team. I even attended some galas and all of these non-stop marathons became so tiring I decided to step away from the spotlight for a while. I really needed a break after all these hard works. I remember my dad always used to tell me that I was too much workaholic. The thing is that he forgot one single detail: he too used to be workaholic. It’s hard-nearly impossible to fight against genetic, isn’t it? So to spend some self-care and quality times, I decided to spend few weeks in a small foreign town called Chaston, recommended for its peaceful and warm atmosphere. It was a one-hour flight and twenty-minute car ride from Green Hill.
At 5:00 PM, I arrived in front of the inn where I previously have reserved a room. With the help of the taxi driver who had dropped me off and after a quick chat with the receptionist, I carried my belongings up to the second floor. Luckily for me, I didn’t have lots of stuffs, just some basic painting supplies and a few clothes. I mean, I wasn’t planning to move in, just staying for a short while. I thanked the taxi driver and as soon as I stepped inside the room, my attention was immediately drawn to the small terrace located just in front of me. I dropped my bag next to the door and approached the landscape I was offered. Leaning against the terrace railing, I lost myself contemplating the beauty Mother Nature had graciously had given: a deep red blended with orange hues, a mixture of warm colours that could spark any artist’s imagination. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes thankful for natural gift before exploring the rest of the room and unpacking my stuffs, a bright smile on the lips.
I haven’t noticed the time passing. Dean R. Koontz's novel Phantoms captured and transported me to another world, with his thriller and mystery blend category. I glanced at the watch in my wrist. 08:15 PM. How come was it this late? Anyway, I haven’t eaten yet and I might starve if I don’t move out of the room. I recalled while browsing on this inn’s website last week that they had a rooftop lunch bar. Maybe giving it a look would be nice since it was too late to wander around town. I then locked my room and headed up, hoping to find what I needed for the night. As I was heading upstairs leading to the terrace, the sound of a crowd mixed with applause echoed from far, with a music background people were singing along. Was a band performing or was it a karaoke night? But most importantly, the song they were playing was my favourite one so driven by curiosity and unwilling to miss the song, I quickened my pace. When I got there, the place was likely crowded, cheerful and warm. People of all ages were united by a song, beers and laughter. Even, waitresses cut their rushing work to appreciate the song and sing along with everyone else. Then, my gaze turned to the stage where the performer responsible for this lively atmosphere stood: in his red shirt, blue jeans, brown leather boots and with a harmonious voice, he carried the crowd into Rhys Lewis’s Things You Can't Change; a culture moment for the elders who had mostly grown up with Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley.
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Li
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See You Again
ChickLitIt's an excerpt from Victor Hugo's "Les Misérables". He says: "The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have loo...
