Energized at Innerbloom

“Yellow house with a green gate,” I repeated it like a mantra. As the taxi crept down the tiny street we were dismayed to see that most of the villas had green gates and four or five were shades of yellow. “Uhh, the balconies are terracotta! See?” I thrust my phone forward for the driver to see.

“Orange balconies,” Colby hummed in agreement from the front seat. “Right there.” And the taxi lurched forward.

Stepping through the green metal door in the gate felt like being admitted into a private sanctum. Peppers and a banana tree brightened up the cozy little brick space.

Inside the house the air held the bibliochor smell of old books. A simple woodburning stove stood near an antique sewing machine. Original art pieces graced every wall. Even the light switches were elegant ocatgon shapes with gold trim.

Keys were pressed into my hand. One was a skeleton key that merged into a Phillip’s head screwdriver. I’d never seen a key like it. The other was the key to the secret garden.