I woke up to the overwhelming sound of seagulls crying in the skies outside. Bath has such a romance to it; so much history and charm. Old, weathered buildings line the streets. Grand trees burst from alleyways, dominate hidden squares. There’s a consistent, peaceful flow of water.


From the spa roof, mesmerized, floating in the steam. Surrounded by people, but alone in my world. The roofline of honey brown stone and chimneys, a scene from the 1700s. Nothing breaks the skyline illusion of time travel. The cries of seagulls echoe. No pictures here.


I understand why so many people have told me they love this place so much.


Bath, England, December

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