CREATIVE HIDEAWAY SANCTUARY

                                       CREATIVE HIDEAWAY SANCTUARY

 

Nestled in the warm embrace of rolling sage hills lies a sanctuary uncorrupted by time. It is a secluded cottage out of a scenic postcard—the stuff of dreams—your brother sent you from his trips abroad. Cloaked in a thin veil of natural vegetation, the cottage blends perfectly with the land, its indoor plant potted walls and wooden beams merging effortlessly with the wilderness. The scent of pine and rhododendron flowers lingers in the crisp, clear air, mingling with the far-away echo of the hidden cascading brook.

 

Lodged at the ideal elevation, this hideaway offers a spectacular vantage point, a front row seat to nature’s grandest spectacle. At dawn, the sky erupts into a riot of pink and gold, and the landscape is sketched and painted in a soft golden glow. The far-off hills stretch endlessly, their textured outlines sketched in fading ink, disappear into the horizon. As twilight descends, the sun sinks behind the mountains bidding a majestic adieu, splashing the heavens with bright orange and crimson hues before settling into a deep violet of night.

 

But its unique selling point lies in its solitude. Here the world has slowed down. There is no constant chatter, no hum of the buzzing city life- only the soothing orchestration of nature, as if playing the cello. The rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, the melodic chirping of the crickets, the musical trill of the birds perched on the windowsill- these are your companions that will nurture your soul evoking your latent creativity.

 

Having discovered this hidden gem, a seasoned creative once described it as the ideal refuge for those with a wild, restless spirit. A place that can give birth to a thousand yarns effortlessly, where art takes a life of its own in the quiet corners of the sun-kissed rooms. He passed on the secret of the sanctuary to those, who, like him, sought inspiration in the solitude, dreamers, poets, musicians, song writers, and artists, yearning to escape from the humdrum.

 

A few hours by train, then a zigzagging road journey through the whispering meadows and woods, the winding paths, lead to this concealed paradise. The journey is an immersion in another realm, a slow withdrawal from the mundane, until finally you arrive. The cottage stands there, patiently, as if knowing you’d eventually come.

 

And once you do, you may never want to leave. Well, I know there is a cottage like this, not just a figment of my imagination. If you chance by it, let me know its whereabouts.