My step-daughter and her husband travel. They're great at it. They love it. And they have a website where you can find her brilliant (and funny) articles on travel, along with amazing photos taken by both herself and her crazy-talented, photographer-husband. It's called Manifesting Travel. Please give it a click and check it out!
My jaw dropped when I saw this door it! (Look for it on their website. It was from their recent trip to London) I had to paint it! And write a poem! Haha! Here it is:
Behind the Purple Door
Passing down a street unknown,
I spied a purple door
with polished brass, and marble steps
that lead to something . . . more.
But more of what? I asked myself.
Behind that hue sublime,
are all belongings dipped in gold?
To live, have they more time?
Are people here, in fancy clothes,
who sip their fancy tea,
with pinkies out, and elbows in,
much happier than me?
Their tablecloth so elegant
and made of lace so fine.
Mine’s old and from my mother,
with stains of tea and wine.
Twas handed down, like all good stuff,
and treasured all the more.
Do items have that kind of worth
behind the purple door?
Do candles here burn brighter?
Are the residents more kind?
Are they smarter, stronger, wiser?
Can they always speak their mind?
And those who live behind the door,
do all their problems cease?
They have wealth, but do they have
a deeper sense of peace?
Are their lives here that much better?
They have etiquettes and rules.
Their belongings may be shiny,
but the shine, it only fools
us into thinking we need more,
when truly we are fine.
And if I had to choose a door,
thank you, I’ll choose mine.
I like sharing my process, so here it is in a few steps:
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