The Hotel pool, a world on its own where inhibitions can be liberated or encapsulated. A place to show, a place to withdraw. A place of uneasy congregation, rich with life scenes and hidden personal histories. Mostly, though, a place where beauty makes its appearance more often than not. A place away from the pressures of daily life, a place where those with no sense home find home. A place to get lost and be lost. A place to seduce and be seduced. A place where the unconscious pursuit of life relief can triumph over common sense.
The framing of this particular pool is exquisite. With a fifteen-foot elevation, the pool sits above the Atlantic Ocean, which reaches the beach below via soft waves, their progress slowed by offshore islands. Countering the peaceful Ocean on the opposite side, are peaks made of solid granite that measure hundreds of meters high and that look out of place as if positioned there by a human hand to serve as Sentinels. A breeze blows through the pool on a West to East direction impacting the peaks and holding back rain clouds. The scene is celestial, giving life to all its elements in a perfect fusion of color, temperature, texture and smell.
Amongst the attendees is a woman. She is working diligently on her laptop computer. A relentless turbine of fingers moves across her keyboard, her canvas. She seems attractive at a distance. But the full extent of her beauty is not evident due to the placement of her body. As she types she shifts endlessly, concluding with her body sitting down on the launcher with both her legs to each side touching the hot concrete floor. Her bikini is a vivid blue and reveals enough for the imagination to busy itself forever. Her head is bent to one side looking as though she is waiting for the answer to a question. She is leaning towards her computer. Her long hair almost reaches the chair. Her thighs are firm and determined. Her calves protrude just enough and are not grotesque as those steroid imbued bodies that are always present in weight lifting competitions. Her entire body, her muscle definition, hints of a love affair with exercise.
The demands of the keyboard and the sun have made her uncomfortable. As she gets up and starts her walk to the pool, the truth of her whole beauty becomes apparent. Her stride is perfect, sinuous and long but not pronounced. In her wake she leaves the smell unique to the combination of sun, perspiration and coconut sun tanning oils. The smell can be replicated in many places in the world, but this one appears sweeter, more demanding, more erotic. As she moves, slowly and deliberately through the midday sun, the smell is intoxicating, commanding. Her figure is a contour of curves, each gleaning and glimmering in the sun, each curve a world on its own, connecting and forming a figure of dreams. Conversations cease as she moves across the earthly canvas framed by the rocky, round peaks and the lapping ocean.
The siren has succumbed to the strong midday sun. She is mortal after all. As she glances one more time to her side, and with a final flick of her hair, she dives into the pool. Refreshed, she gets out, walks back to her lounge chair and sits down to dry her face. As she lies down, each drop of water in her body starts the inevitable journey to oblivion. But this time the drops appear to move slowly, as if propelled by the collective force of all eyes watching her, the drops do not seem to want to leave this Eden. They want to remain forever and caress the sculpture that will hold their short evaporative life. As she glances at her watch it is clear that this visual reverie will be coming to an end. She seems active, progressive, busy, enduring. A certain toughness is evident in her demeanor.
At her feet is her stage packed with peering audience focusing on her short journey to the water. The sun provides the eminent light that washes us all with that unique quality that permeates humans when all worries are set aside. All are in a common trance enraptured by the walking, breathing sculpture. They say beauty conquers all, the attention of all has been conquered and the family men, as well as the gay man, look on, as if watching a slow motion scene develop. Her hair is a festival of movement as it finds its way through the strong breeze. Her color is the color of gold disturbed only by her two-piece bathing suit that appears to have been born with the body it now carries. Her muscles, toned and suntanned are prepared for battle.
This scene, her scene, her beauty will be retold and retold by everyone on this pool. The moment will infiltrate family stories for years to come. It will be used be as an allegory for personal change, it will promote and motive, it will infuriate, it will lead to jealous contempt. This woman, on this pool, in this worldly destination has given life to unsurpassed beauty and had made everyone present feel the aura, the energy. She has made everyone aspire to be like her.
