My home hides quietly under the cool shade of banana trees,
and I glide gracefully through the old creaking corridors, my bare feet sliding across squeaky wooden floors,
while sunbeams and dark shadows display their dances across dreamy purple walls, spaces so tall but overflow forever
with echoes of the most uplifting laughter,
filled to the ceiling with whispers of the most sacred and closely kept secrets.

Sometimes an ancient iron gate swings back and forth, a soft sound signaling spontaneous visits from smiling friends.