Marygold Hotel

Once a beautiful building, once possibly even luxurious, it is clearly in the process of being given at least half the face-lift it badly needs. Parts of the building are freshly painted, some of the ornate balconies are crumbling, and one wall is clad with crazily skewed bamboo scaffolding.

A huge old tree towers an untended garden, its branches poking into the windows of the building.

The courtyard is not without charm, although somewhat dilapidated. A fountain at the centre does not look as if it has seen water in years, and faded awnings are strung up haphazardly.

This is a building of the utmost character which means that perhaps not everything will function in the way you expect it to. The building has stood for centuries, and will stand for many more, in 100% shipshape condition. The room is very small, comfortable, and tastefully decorated, but there´s no door.


That´s my King


The Bible says, my King is the King of the Jews
He´s the King of Israel, He´s the King of righteouness,
He´s the King of ages, He´s the King of heaven,
He´s the king of Glory, He´s the King of Kings and He´s the Lord of Lords.
That´s my King, I wonder Do you know him
My King is a sovereign King, no means of measure can define his limitless love,
He´s enduringly strong, He´s entirely sincere, He´s eternally steadfast,
He´s inmortally graceful, He´s imperially powerful, He´s impartially mercyful.
Do you know him?
He´s the greatest phenomenon that has ever crossed the horizon of this World,
He´s God´s son, He´s the sinner´s saviour, He´s the centrepiece of civilization,
He´s unparalleled, He´s unprecedented, He´s the loftiest idea in literature,
He´s the highest personality in philosophy, He´s the fundamental doctrine in Theology,
He´s the only one qualified to be an all-sufficient saviour,
I wonder if you know him today?
He supplies strenght to the weak, He´s available for the tempted and the tried,
He simpatices and He saves, He strengthens and sustains, He guards and He guides,
He heals the sick, He cleans the leppers, He forgives sinners, He discharges debtors,
He delivers the captive, He defends the feeble, He blesses the young, he serves the unfortunate,
He regards the aged, He rewards the diligent, He beautifies the meek,
I wonder if you Know him?
He´s the key to knowledge, He´s the wellspring of wisdom,
He´s the doorway of deliverance, He´s the pathway of peace ,
He´s the roadway of righteouness, He´s the highway of holiness, He´s the Gateway of Glory,
Do you know him?
His life is matchless, His goodness is limitless, His mercy is everlasting, His love never changes,
His Word is enough, His grace is sufficient, HIs reigns is righteous, HIs Yoke is easy,
HIs burden is Light,
I wish I could describe him to you,
He´s indescribable, He´s incomprehensible, He´s invincible, He´s irresistible,
You can´t get him out of your mind, You can´t get him off of your hand,
You can´t outlive him and you can´t live without him,
The pharisees couldn´t stand him but they found out they couldn´t stop him,
Pilate couldn´t find any fault in him, Herod couldn´t kill him, death couldn´t handle him,
And the grave couldn´t hold him.
That´s my King.

Literary descriptions

This post is about descriptions, literary descriptions in particular. I’ve chosen two examples, one is a painting description from Tracy Chevaliers’ novel The Girl with a pearl earring, while the other describes a room, Maudie’s room, from The Diaries of Jane Somers by Doris Lessing. I hope you enjoy them.

From Chevaliers’s The Girl with a Pearl Earring, describing a painting

A woman stood in front of a table, turned towards a mirror on the wall so that she was in profile. She wore a mantle of rich yellow satin trimmed with white ermine, and a fashionable five-pointed red ribbon in her hair. A window lit her from the left, falling across her face and tracing the delicate curve of her forehead and nose. She was tying a string of pearls around her neck, holding the ribbons up, her hands suspended in the air. Entranced with herself in the mirror, she did not seem to be aware that anyone was looking at her. Behind her on a bright white wall was an old map, in the dark foreground the table with the letter on it, the powder-brush and the other things I had dusted around. (p. 36).


If you are curious about the painting, visit Vermeer’s website

 The Diaries of Jane Somers by Doris Lessing

We walked along it to the ‘kitchen’. I have never seen anything like it outside our Distress File, condemned houses and that sort Of things. It was an extension of the passage , with an old gas cooker, greasy and black, and old white china sink, cracked and yellow with grease, a cold-water tap wrapped around with old rags and dripping steadily.  A rather nice old wood table that had crockery standing on it, all ‘washed’ but grimy. The walls stained and damp. The whole place smelled, it smelled awful… She did not look at me while she set down bread , biscuits and cat food.  The clean lively colours of the grocery packages and the tins in that awful place. She was ashamed, but wasn’t going to apologize. She said in an offhand but appealing way , ‘You go into my room, and find yourself a seat’. (p. 12)


If you are interested in this author, please check her site.