Today I realised why I feel obliged to take photos of the snazzy hotel rooms I stay in.
It's not because I want to show off. Not principally, anyway.
I can't quite remember the thought process that led me to this conclusion, but I've decided it's because staying in a room that doesn't belong to anyone is a lonely experience, particularly if you do it on your own.
Maybe it's because a room that belongs to someone (a spare room in someone's house, for example) means by extension that there's someone there that you know.
Taking pictures and thinking of the stories you can tell your friends and family about them reminds you that they're not so far away and in a few days you'll be back in familiar surroundings.
I never saw myself as a homebody. For the longest time I've seen myself as quite the opposite: a road warrior with no particular place as home; the life of a touring musician would have suited me just fine.
I'm not crippled with homesickness by any stretch of the imagination, but tonight, in a 4-star hotel, eating dinner alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, I just want to be with someone I know.
The pianola in the corner knows what I mean: just as the Gershwin tune Someone To Watch Over Me came into my mind, it joined in as if I'd just hummed it the melody.
Time to get into my big comfy bed and look forward to my complementary breakfast.
It's not because I want to show off. Not principally, anyway.
I can't quite remember the thought process that led me to this conclusion, but I've decided it's because staying in a room that doesn't belong to anyone is a lonely experience, particularly if you do it on your own.
Maybe it's because a room that belongs to someone (a spare room in someone's house, for example) means by extension that there's someone there that you know.
Taking pictures and thinking of the stories you can tell your friends and family about them reminds you that they're not so far away and in a few days you'll be back in familiar surroundings.
I never saw myself as a homebody. For the longest time I've seen myself as quite the opposite: a road warrior with no particular place as home; the life of a touring musician would have suited me just fine.
I'm not crippled with homesickness by any stretch of the imagination, but tonight, in a 4-star hotel, eating dinner alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, I just want to be with someone I know.
The pianola in the corner knows what I mean: just as the Gershwin tune Someone To Watch Over Me came into my mind, it joined in as if I'd just hummed it the melody.
Time to get into my big comfy bed and look forward to my complementary breakfast.
brinny:
i wish i could be having that dinner with you.. we could be lonely together