‘Melt your heart,’ said Simone, the Kiwi sleep therapist, stretching her generous body as elegantly as she was able on the yoga mat. Waves lapped the beach nearby. ‘Glow it violet, then allow the violet to flow up, up, up into your chest, your belly, now your legs and arms…’ Well, I tried, honestly I tried, but my heart stubbornly refused to melt, or even, for that matter, to glow. As sturdy English hearts of oak appeared to be melting all around me, I felt I was rather letting the side down. And as for the violet? Nada.
The beginning and end of this ju-ju ordeal was bracketed by bells tinkled around our heads like some vaguely asiatic-version of a Catholic mass
Faith is at the heart of the health business, but why does no-one call out the Emperor for his déshabillage? This was a ‘wellness resort’ in the island of Hvar, Croatia.
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